The Flip Side
by Moonlight Reflection
Summary: In Zexion’s effort to eliminate Riku, he only unleashed a greater threat. Now former enemies must work together to survive, and in the process discover that they might not be so different after all. Even with only one heart between the two of them.
1. Light and Dark

Title: The Flip Side

Summary: In Zexion's effort to eliminate Riku, he only unleashed a greater threat. Now former enemies must work together to survive, and in the process discover that they might not be so different after all. Even with only one heart between the two of them.

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: The story started out as a 'what if', looking at what could have happened if during the confrontation with Zexion, Riku had actually lost control of himself long enough for the Heartless Xehanort to take control over his body. Needless to say, nothing good for either him or Zexion, which is when the story became an exploration of the oft-quoted saying of 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'. But with a lot less emphasis on the 'friend' part.

The story itself is divided between Riku and Zexion's perspectives, exploring not only their 'partnership' but their respective dealings with the situation. As mentioned, the fic diverges from canon during the meeting between Riku and Zexion in the memory of Destiny Islands, and attempts to converge back into the beginning of Kingdom Hearts II without screwing up the storyline too much ('too much', being the operative phrase).

**Act I: Light and Dark**

_I'm… fading…._

Melodrama had never really been his style, but it was hard not to get caught up in it when it felt like he was dying. Maybe fading wasn't even the right way of putting it; no, it was more like… being ripped apart, piece by piece, a process that was as methodical as it was agonizingly painful.

_Consumed by the light_….

So maybe he was getting a _little_ over the top, but he'd just blame that on the pain. Of course, some people would probably say that he should just fight through it… but he doubted they would be singing the same tune if they were in his current position.

It was easy to obsess because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stay coherent. Not when it felt like he getting burned clean through, and while he didn't want to make too many excuses—wasn't that how he had let things get out of control in the first place?—he just didn't see a way around it anymore.

Besides, was it really an excuse when in the process, he was pretty much admitting that he was just too weak? That by not fighting, by accepting what was happening to him, he was fully accepting the blame for the damage he had wreaked on countless innocent people?

In fact, looking at it from that point of view meant it wasn't even about the pain. Because if he looked at it with an unbiased eye, realized and accepted who he was and what he had become, he would accept that he was a danger. He had attacked one best friend, delivered another into the hands of evil, lost control of his own body and allowed a psychotic megalomaniac to take pot shots at a universe or two… hell, who in their right mind would let someone like that _live_, when he had proven so convincingly how weak he was?

Maybe that was why he didn't fight back. Sure, part of it was that he just didn't know how to fight back against the light; how were you supposed to battle against something that you usually fought _for_? But really, if he was honest, he knew a lot of it was that… well, he didn't really want to fight on. Granted, he didn't really want to die either, but that didn't exactly mean he deserved to go on living either.

Right?

Well, right or not, it kinda sucked because he would have liked to see Sora again. See the guy, tell him that he was sorry—sorry for being an idiot, sorry for being an arrogant asshole, sorry for _everything_—maybe remind him to stay out of trouble because Sora seemed to have a habit for getting into sticky situations. But he wouldn't have to tell him to not give into the darkness; there was no chance of that. Because Sora wasn't like him. Sora was _different_, and not just because he was the chosen Keyblade Master. More that… he was just a good guy. Who didn't try to destroy worlds out of boredom.

And Kairi. He would have liked to apologize to her too, except that he wasn't really sure where the hell to begin.

There were so many things to say, so many things he still wanted—_needed_—to do. But instead of having that motivate him into finding a way to fight through this and survive, he let it all go and moved on.

Most people would have called it giving in. Riku was not most people. In fact, if he was capable of moving right now, he would like to offer the middle finger to 'most people', and especially the implication that he was one of them. Because most people didn't destroy worlds because they had gotten bored with their lives. _Most_ people found healthier outlets to vent their frustrations, like emo poetry or glazing pottery or maybe even jumping off of bridges with no parachutes. He should have been one of those people but he wasn't, and now he was paying the price for taking more than he was entitled to.

Huh. And to think that he'd once thought he had gotten over this self-pity stage. Guess not.

_Pathetic_, a familiar voice agreed. It took him a split-second to realize that it wasn't his brain, but that he—no matter how he tried to forget it—was no longer the only person in his mind. But by the time he remembered, it was too late, and anyway he wasn't sure that knowing would have prevented the blinding white light from being completely overtaken by the more familiar and terrifying _darkness_.

Riku turned sharply, but the movement was sluggish from the darkness that wrapped around him. It threatened to engulf him, but he refused to let it, instead forcing himself to move to avoid being completely enveloped. He might have been willing to give in only seconds before, but things were different now. Giving into the light was one thing, but the darkness? That was one hell of a different story.

Oddly enough, the pain was gone. It had been replaced by blind panic, which wasn't exactly an improvement but at least it was no longer about the burning blindness of the light. No, what he faced now was the pitch black of darkness, and while that was frightening, it was also in a bizarre way _familiar_. He had been here before, after all, and here, there was finally an enemy he could actually _fight_.

An enemy that wasn't himself, anyway.

"Ansem!" he yelled, but instead of echoing in vast emptiness the words were muffled at best. But he knew that coherency no longer really mattered because Ansem knew exactly what he was saying, even if he might not.

As if on cue, the Heartless began to laugh. Compared to his words, which seemed to fade into the darkness, the laugh echoed all too clearly. Judging by the sound, the Heartless was in complete control of the situation. No wonder he was being laughed at. Part of him wanted to cover up his ears as the laugh just continued on, increasing in volume, but the practical side of him pointed out that it probably wouldn't help anyway.

It was a little pessimistic, but after everything he had and was now going through, it was a little hard to stay upbeat.

And then the laughter finally stopped, although it continued to echo, but the words cut through it all as the voice—a voice that made ice run down his spine as he tried to deny its existence all over again—said, _**To think that you would be done in by a mere **_**Nobody**_**. I expected better of you, Riku.**_

"What the hell are you talking about?!" The words came out as a shout but faded instantly, as if they were disappearing as soon as they touched the darkness. But as frustrating as that was, he could not help but notice that odd inflection on the word _nobody_. As if it was supposed to mean something.

He found little time to dwell on that though as Ansem said with a mock sigh, _**It seems that you still understand nothing. But that is no longer of my concern.**_

He wanted to deny that, but found that he really… couldn't. Because it was hard to deny such an obvious truth. So instead, he twisted around, trying to see Ansem through the darkness, willing to settle for just seeing _anything_, but still there was only black nothingness. He couldn't sense anything either, and he didn't even know if there was anything to sense in the first place. Instead, he only had the voice to keep him company as again, that deep laugh echoed in what seemed like an increasingly smaller space.

_**You do not even understand the true nature of your enemies.**_

Riku felt almost like he was eight and getting scolded by the teacher for not understanding the math problems. Looking back, that teacher had been a real asshole, but nothing compared to his current enemy. "Yeah? Why don't you tell me all about it then?"

It was a little weird, how mad he felt right now considering how only minutes before he had been all too ready to just… die. But now, being confronted by Ansem, all he could do was resist. Except it was getting harder to keep his mind from giving into the pressure of the overwhelming darkness, and while the rage kept him focused, he didn't know how long he could sustain it.

He had to find a way out before he completely gave in. But how?

_**A creature with no hearts and no emotions. Rather like you will be, once I am through with you,**_ Ansem said rather gleefully. Riku frowned and started to speak, but Ansem cut him off, _**The light has rejected you. Surely you felt it in the way you burned. And the darkness has no need for one such as you, Riku. Not when it has a more competent host.**_

Riku flinched at that. And while he knew that logically, Ansem was full of shit and he would be better off not listening to the voice, and anyway who the hell would _want_ to be the host to darkness in the first place… it was hard not to recoil when the words so perfectly echoed his previous thoughts. Even though they were coming from the Heartless he knew was trying to destroy him inside-out, it didn't mean that the words were false either.

Unfortunately for the Heartless, Riku just wasn't that good at accepting the obvious.

"You're trying to trick me again," he said, as if saying the words out loud might convince him of their truth. Ha. If only. And even if he was right, and this was all just a trick… well, it was a damned good one. Because he might be trying to put up a brave front now, but he was still shaken by his experience with the burning light. Maybe it was stupid, but… it was almost like a confirmation of everything he had been scared of. That no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did, he would never be forgiven. And maybe he didn't deserve forgiveness, but he wasn't really sure how he could live without being able to move on from what he had done, whether it was on his own terms or in the eyes of the rest of the world.

What if… what if after he managed to survive this, Sora and Kairi would still never look at him the same way again?

_But that's not true_. Because neither of them were the kind of people to just give up on him. Even after what he had done, he remembered Sora's face as the door had closed on him and King Mickey. No amount of determination could hide the immense regret in those eyes, and if that was really the case, then _perhaps the only person left to forgive you is yourself._

He started. That voice. It was… well, it definitely wasn't Ansem's, and the reminder of that made him narrow his eyes. Ansem had been conspicuously silent for far longer than expected, and the presence he felt now was not just the Heartless's. No, there was… there was definitely someone else, someone familiar and yet different all the same. And it was trying to reach out to him with words that were not his but that he needed to hear. _Riku_-

_**Enough of that,**_ Ansem suddenly snarled, and just like that, the presence was gone. He was alone again, alone with the demons—or was it just demon?—of his past, and he suddenly felt even more defenseless than he had before. The darkness was even more suffocating, pressing against him on all sides, crowding him in until he could not move. He opened his mouth to speak but that just seemed to invite the darkness in, and it nearly made him gag as it rushed into his very being. _**No, Riku. You are alone. Alone and weak and helpless, and unable to face what you have become. It is a gift, what the darkness has given you. But you fear it still.**_

_** And that will be your undoing.**_

Again, he tried to say something—although what, he didn't know; there wasn't any way to defend himself now, was there?—but the darkness held him tight. It was getting hard to breathe, and the overwhelming presence of the Heartless seemed to sink into his very subconscious.

He hadn't realized his eyes had closed until they flew open, but there was nothing to see. Yet the shock of the realization forced him to fight anew, ignoring how useless the actions would be. Because he knew now what the Heartless was trying to do, and he had sworn he would never let Ansem do that again.

_He's trying to take me over._

_**Caught on quickly, haven't you?**_ Ansem asked, but there was no anger. Only amusement that he had figured out the Heartless's goal, but it was too late and the words were laced with the easy triumph of someone who had already won.

Riku wanted to scream in protest, but his voice was already stolen away by the darkness. Stolen, along with every speak of individuality he had until he was simply trapped, with no way of controlling anything around him or within. The darkness pressed against him, threatening to crush him out of existence as thoroughly as the light had tried to burn him, and all the while in the distance….

_You can't give in!_ The familiar-yet-not voice was louder now, increasing to almost shrill desperation as it tried to get through to him. But even as it became more insistent it continued still to fade into the background, until he could barely understand what the hell it was saying, let alone remember what it had said before. Because now the only thing he could focus on was trying to keep a hold on himself, and the only way he could do that was by concentrating on the Heartless that he knew stood before him, laughing at him as he continued to fight a losing battle.

It was over. They both knew it. And even though Riku would be the first to admit that he was a master of the time-honored custom of denial, nothing he told himself could explain away the darkness that was consuming him piece by piece.

_Riku!_

Kairi?

But it was not Kairi, not really. There was something strange about that voice… it wasn't hers, not really. Someone else's. But who's? Who could be so similar and yet not? And who would care about him like this when he was just a failure, a failure who could never be of any use but would only bring tragedy to people who were stupid enough to care about him? People like Sora and Kairi who deserved so much better. What would happen to them now? Would they be okay?

And all the while, she called to him. Tried one last time to reach through, but then she was completely forced out and all that was left was Ansem.

_**You make this far too easy.**_

He barely had time to think of an appropriate response when suddenly, there was—

_Nothing._

* * *

As soon as he realized what was happening—and it did not take a genius to realize, only basic observation skills—Zexion did not bother to wait around for what he knew was to come. Instead, with a nervousness he masked with grim calm, he quickly extended a hand to summon the dark corridor.

But before he could step through, a cold laugh echoed through the room.

"Oh, is that any way to treat an old colleague?"

The darkness twisted and shrank as quickly as he had called it, and before he could think to throw calm and caution to the wind and just _run_, large hands grabbed his shoulder and forced him to turn. He had barely focused on the Heartless when a second hand—this one with long fingers made of inky darkness—clamped onto his neck and listed him clear off the ground.

"I thought you would have learned your lesson by now, Ienzo," the man he thought he would never have to see again said with feigned sadness as he choked and gasped in his struggle to breathe, his own hands scrabbling desperately in an attempt to gain some leverage. But there was little of that to be had as his fingers sank into the dark flesh, offering him little reprieve as merciless orange eyes fixed on him.

Xehanort was smiling. "Running will get you nowhere."

His eyes narrowed, and he would have let loose a scathing remark if circumstances had permitted it. But as it was, he did not have enough breath to say much of anything. Although given his current situation, that might have been for the best as survival was of decidedly higher priority than whatever 'grudge' he might still bear against his former… _colleague_.

Unfortunately, _survival_ was easier said than done. The dark creature that was holding him presented little means of support, and Xehanort did not seem overly inclined to release him. Indeed, the Heartless seemed more than content to mock his current predicament, if that expression—half amusement, half curiosity, but all of it deriding and potentially _fatal_—was of any indication. "Nothing to say, Ienzo?"

Perhaps he should have been grateful for the hand that was threatening to snap his neck. Deadly as the grip was, it at least saved him the trouble of having to come up with something to say. More importantly, it kept him from tempting a less gentle reaction to the biting response that itched to be spoken out loud, regardless of the consequences. Ienzo had never quite possessed the self-preservationist tendencies that might have prevented any of this from happening, but in a place such as Radiant Garden—well, as it used to be _before_, at least—it was not quite necessary. That was not much of an excuse, but at least it explained more than he would have honestly liked to admit.

Not that honesty was considered a high priority when it came to Nobodies.

"Ah. Perhaps you are simply too surprised by what is happening to think of a proper response," Xehanort suggested cruelly, reaching out to give him an indulgent pat on the head as if he was a favorite student who had just made a silly mistake. "That is perfectly understandable. After all, I do recall that you always did have a habit of… biting off more than you can chew." The smile that accompanied this thinly concealed insult showed off a set of very white—and disturbingly sharp—teeth.

His only response to this was to struggle weakly against the grip, although his fight was more for air than for the right to speak. He had nothing to say to the Heartless; in fact, he had little desire to be anywhere near the being he had once had the distinct _displeasure_ of knowing when they still had hearts.

"But perhaps I should not be so harsh. After all, it is that particular failing that I have to thank for my return," Xehanort said thoughtfully, drawing his hand back. "And no good deed should go unrewarded. Tell me, Ienzo. What should I gift you with, for helping me return to this plane of existence?"

Letting him get as far away as possible from the Heartless would be an excellent start, but again, he chose to keep that thought to himself. Yet although he had not voiced his opinion, Xehanort seemed to sense his distinct _lack_ of gratitude as the grip around his neck tightened painfully. The smile went from amused to outright malicious, and if he had been less self-possessed, he would have wanted nothing more than to claw the bastard's face off.

Unfortunately, even if he was willing to give into such crude desires, he was completely incapable of acting on it. The most he could do was to continue to maintain the façade of perfect calm, but again, it was difficult to manage that when he was choking. His vision was starting to go black, and he was suddenly struck with a painful sense of déjà vu. The only difference from the first time was the lack of pulsing as his heart tried desperately to send what little oxygen was left to keep his body alive; no, this time there was no heart to beat. He could not breathe, but even as he struggled to survive the scholar's part of his mind could only wonder if it was even necessary.

And yet he continued to cling to the monster's arm, trying not to lose what precious hold he had somehow managed to get. The last thing he needed was to end up in a position that was worse than his already precarious perch.

"Ah. A simple enough request. Put him down." The last of these words were directed at the dark creature, who with little flourish opened his hand so that Zexion could drop bonelessly to the ground. Even if he had been prepared for the sudden descent, he did not think he would have possessed the energy to land on his feet. Besides, it was not as if he could feel shame at the sorry sight he made, with his body so pathetically incapable of standing as he could only lie there struggling for breath. It hurt, almost burning-like as the air went down his abused throat. The pain made him gag, which really just hurt all the more, but there was nothing he could do about that as he tried to regain some sense of composure.

Of course, he knew that it did not really matter. Because Xehanort had been watching him all this time, and no amount of posing could erase what had just happened.

"Funny," Xehanort suddenly said, and he paused in his recovery efforts to give the Heartless a baleful look. Xehanort just smirked back, continuing, "I did not think you would need to breathe still. After all, you have no heart to circulate it through your body. I would have imagined that because of that, Nobodies would have evolved past that particular dependency. Or deficiency, if you like."

Again, he bit back a potentially dangerous retort. He had little interest in inviting any more pain than what he was already going through. But the lack of action annoyed him all the same, so he forced himself to stand. Immediately he found himself swaying dangerously on the spot. Apparently, he had misjudged his abilities once again.

A hand reached out to steady him—a human hand, this time, or at least closer to human that that limb of inky darkness. He did not bother to give thanks, as it took all his willpower not to recoil from the proffered help. Because when it came to Xehanort, no good deed came without a greater cost.

"You are quiet," Xehanort observed. "The Ienzo I knew would never be this silent."

That was because Ienzo had _died_ at the hands of the Heartless, and the near-strangulation from moments before did not make him any happier to be reminded of those events from Radiant Garden. But Xehanort seemed to have conveniently forgotten both points, and Zexion knew better than to point either out. It simply was not worth it.

Instead, he forced himself to move again, preferably away from the Heartless. Except as soon as he started to pull away, the hand that had meant to steady him quickly tightened, becoming a gesture of restraint.

It seemed that he would not be getting away so easily. He looked up at the Heartless, and realized with no little apathy that even after all this time, the man was still completely and utterly _insane_.

"That is because there is nothing to say," he said finally, the words hoarse. It hurt to speak, but he knew he would be worse off in the long run if he did not.

"Surely that cannot be," Xehanort replied, still sounding amused. "I do recall that we used to have the most intriguing conversations.

"You had something to teach then. The same cannot be said now."

Xehanort chuckled, a deep rumble of a sound. Its lowness reminded him almost of Lexaeus's laugh, the few times the other Nobody had chosen to indulge in such pointless gestures. But unlike this one, the Silent Hero's laugh had never caused him to fear for his very existence. "You have changed since losing yourself to the darkness."

"As have you."

"Do you really think so?" Xehanort actually sounded surprised, although his expression was as serene as ever. "I personally do not see it. Perhaps you have been spending too much time with my Nobody."

He had actually not been expecting the Heartless to bring up its Nobody counterpart so readily; the feeling of incompletion had always been a sore spot for the Nobodies, but it seemed that was not quite applicable for the being before him. Even if he was capable of it, he did not think he would have been too surprised; Xehanort always did seem to react to situations differently than one would have expected. As if he was completely separate from the rest of humanity. "You speak of him as if he is not even a part of you."

"That is because he isn't. What use do I have for a shell?" Xehanort asked, and then smiled humorlessly as Zexion stiffened, the reaction involuntary but unavoidable. Even worse, the Heartless seemed to guess what that was about as he continued, in an almost soothing voice, "Not that I mean you, of course."

"Of course," he repeated, the words dry although he felt cold. Already he could feel the fingers at his throat, and it was not a pleasant memory. "If you had no use for me, I would not still be alive."

"Clever as always." It was not a compliment. "Of course I would expect nothing less from my fellow apprentice."

He ignored that. "But what I do not understand," Zexion said, keeping his gaze steady (showing fear would incite the being further, he knew), "is what compels you to believe that I would have any interest in helping you?"

Xehanort's lips pulled back in a smile that resembled the snarl of a wild animal ready to attack. He was already disturbed enough as it was, but the next words still managed to make him feel worse, "What makes you think that I am giving you a choice?"

That was the question he had been hoping to avoid, but he was not foolish enough to ever think that there was any other possibility as he just glared back. "You cannot hold me forever." Not that the Heartless needed to.

"True enough," Xehanort conceded gracefully. "I will not bother to do so once I have what I need. Then it will be no problem to me to get rid of you. But tell me; are you truly that eager to die?"

Of course not. The very insinuation was insulting, but he continued to keep his tongue in check. As much as it irritated him, he saw no benefit in informing Xehanort of that fact. Doubtless the Heartless would just find a way to use that information against him, even though it was a reasonable feeling for most people. But then, Nobodies were not 'most people', and he knew Xehanort would use that as an excuse for treating him like some sort of abomination for wanting to continue existing. Because even this pitiful excuse of a half-life was better than being…

_Nothing_.

But at this rate, was there really any way for him to avoid such a fate? He could not, unfortunately, answer the question himself, and he doubted that the one person who could would be at all forthcoming with an answer. Besides, there was the matter of what Xehanort… needed. That was a question he was certain he wouldn't want the answer to, and he was not sure who he was speaking to when he said simply, "Unfortunately, at this point I see no way around it."

Once again, Xehanort seemed to find this response much more amusing than it actually was. But Zexion could not be surprised; Xehanort had always been quite good at misunderstanding the obvious, and it appeared that the interceding years—and not to mention the loss of a heart—had not managed to cure the man of that particular deficiency.

Ienzo had always believed that nothing short of death would take care of that personality flaw, and it seemed that he had not been quite correct.

"Ah, the emotionless logic of a Nobody," Xehanort laughed. Zexion did not see what was so amusing, his eyes narrowing as the Heartless continued, "Not to imply that logic is not all very well and good, but it is not the only deciding factor in the world. Surely even you have realized this by now, Ienzo."

"And surely you did not claw your way back to this realm in order to lecture me," he snapped back. It seemed that death had also failed to cure Xehanort's irritating habit of treating him like a child, even though he had already been of age when turned to a Nobody. And how many more years had passed since then? "For if you have, I can think of better ways to spend your existence, especially if that is what it takes to get you to stop wasting _my_ time."

There was a silence as Xehanort looked him over. While the amusement in his eyes was gone, the expression flat, the dark being at his back made no effort to hide its murderous intent. "Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you truly do wish to die."

That was not quite where he had wanted the conversation to go. He did not want Xehanort to involve him in the Heartless's plans, but even more importantly, he did not want to be seen as a threat or nuisance… or anything that needed to be rid of. It was a fine line to walk; to not give Xehanort reason to keep him, nor to eliminate him. He was not sure if even he knew how to do that, but he had to keep talking. "No, I do not. But right now it is the only choice I see before me."

It was a good response, as it seemed to pacify the Heartless. Let the creature thim him weak; what did he care? Xehanort blinked, and in a moment the dark semblance of anger returned to thinly veiled amusement as Xehanort said in that low, falsely soothing voice, "But it does not have to be that way, Ienzo. I could spare you, if you help me freely."

Help him freely. He made it sound so _easy_, as if to mock Zexion's refusal to agree. But even if he was not already wary of whatever Xehanort had to say, there was the matter of the Heartless's motives. Nothing he had seen nor heard so far explained what the Heartless was trying to accomplish by offering him something as simple as his continued life. Whatever Xehanort's motivations, he knew it did not have anything to do with the thanks Xehanort had spoken of before. There was no gratitude for the completely accidental favor Zexion had given him, and it made him even less likely to trust Xehanort.

"A generous offer, especially coming from one like you," he conceded. "But just because you can does not mean you _will_. What guarantee do I have that you will uphold your part of the bargain?" Which only begged the question of what the bargain was to _begin_ with.

"You do not trust me?" But the words did not show any anger; it seemed his prior question had not caused Xehanort any insult, but he had not thought it would. It was more that he was asking what Xehanort was waiting for him to say. Annoying, to play into the creature's game, but necessary.

"Trusting you is what landed me in this situation in the first place."

Xehanort shrugged, "As I recall, you were as fascinated by the secrets of the heart as I."

"Be that as it may, it has no bearing on the present. I do not trust you any longer, and especially not with my life."

"You call your current existence a life?"

No. No, of course not. Not this cursed half-existence of want and need, where nothing seemed to change and nothing seemed to happen. The only thing that remained a constant was the lack of progress and of course, the ever-present, all-consuming _want_ for something he perhaps already knew was impossible to ever attain. Except even knowing that did not stop the want. Some Nobodies, in a desperate attempt to make that want be something more, might have called it hope. Hope that a heart _was_ still possible, that Kingdom Hearts _would_ be their ultimate salvation.

But… perhaps he had been in this existence long enough to know the truth.

Not that he was about to let Xehanort know any of that though. The Heartless did not need any more ammunition than he already had.

"It is more than you would allow me to have, should I agree to assist you," he finally replied.

And Xehanort just continued to smile, as if he was a silly child who did not understand grown-up affairs. And even if he was willing to grant that Ienzo had been _exactly_ that, _he _was Ienzo with nine years to exist as a creature of nothing. Nine years was a long time to exist in such a way, nearly half of the lifetime Ienzo had possessed. Except there had been no time to grow up, as he was instead thrust into a life he had not been prepared for. And he had learned to accept it, if only because the alternative was to truly be nothing instead of the embodiment of it.

"Then don't trust me. That is of no detriment to me," Xehanort said. "But you know, nothing you have said means that it will not still be to your advantage to help me."

He frowned, "We seem to be at odds. I see no benefits to myself to get caught up in your lies again."

"_I can give you a heart._"

The words seemed to come out as a hiss, and for a split-second… the world seemed to stop. Because Xehanort knew, of course, that a heart—not just a heart, but that feeling of completion, the chance to remove the gnawing hole in his existence that seemed to eat away at everything until there was nothing else that _mattered_; not the past or present or even the future because what was any of that compared to the all-consuming _emptiness_?—was the only thing that a Nobody would jump at, no questions asked.

Or at least, it should have been.

It was surprisingly easy to fight back the surge of anticipation, the sudden upwelling of desire for the only that he wanted… needed. If it had been anyone else, he would not have had to. But this was Xehanort, and if it was not for Xehanort he would not have lost his heart in the first place. They would not even be in this situation. And Xehanort might have called him bitter, but it was more than that. Having been so close to that man when they were still whole, he was now capable of looking back on those times with clear and unbiased perception. And from that, he knew that the chance Xehanort would keep his promise was negligible at best, while the odds of betrayal were… well.

"It is a generous offer, I know," he said finally, the words quiet. "But there is nothing to keep you from going back on your promise." _Again_. "What advantage would you have to keep your word and do that for me?"

"What disadvantage would it pose?"

He had always... well, he could not hate anymore, but it had always frustrated him when Xehanort did that. Justification through the lack of a purpose. It was completely ridiculous. "Switching the words around does not make it an appropriate answer. I still see no reason to cooperate."

"You will." Zexion recognized this, and if he'd had a heart it would have sunk. The conversation was over. Xehanort had no interest in pushing this any further, simply because he did not need to. After all, Zexion would eventually have to give in—they both knew this, considering how Xehanort had been in complete and utter control of this situation from the very beginning. Any amusement Xehanort might have had was now gone; the Heartless had run out of patience and had no interest in prolonging the conversation. Zexion had failed to accomplish what he had needed to do, and now it was too late. There would be no further manipulation through words. Perhaps he had lost from the very beginning, especially when the man knew all of his tricks already. "Eventually, you will concede this."

But right now, all he wanted to do was deny it. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, not even when Xehanort reached out to summon the dark corridor. And then all he could do was allow himself to be pulled through, still unable to speak as he was dragged to Kingdom Hearts knew where.

* * *

End Notes:

A note on updating. I have no set updating schedule, but mostly plan on updating whenever I finish a chapter. As of now I have three more chapters already written, but I would prefer to keep them as a buffer in case my writing slows down, as it tends to do over the summer. So far each chapter has been taking me about two to three weeks to finish, and I hope I can keep with that schedule. But I'm not going to promise anything at this point.

Upcoming Chapter Excerpt:

_ They looked at each other. He refused to blink, or to flinch back from the emptiness in those dark blue eyes, even though they were almost… disturbing. In a way he wasn't sure how to describe. "Why should I trust you, after you tried to kill me?"_

_ "What other choice do you have?" was the cool reply._

_ "That isn't enough."_

_ "Interesting. Explain it to me, Riku. What exactly is it about that reason that is insufficient to convince you that your options are restricted to this single one?"_


	2. The Enemy of My Enemy

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: And onto chapter two. The last one ran a bit further than I expected it to get, and I ended up moving a scene to this chapter. It improved the flow, but unfortunately by moving the scene I also increased this chapter length to the point that I had to move another scene out. Go figure.

I think my biggest problem when writing this fic as of now is keeping the Riku and Zexion voices separate. It has been a while since I have had multiple perspectives in the same chapter, and especially when going so in-depth with both of them, it's a little too easy to fall into one mindset when writing the other.

**Act II: The Enemy of My Enemy**

Taking the dark corridors was never as easy as outsiders supposed it to be. Although the principle was simple, twisting the darkness so that it would lead from one place to another without actually having to travel the distance, the reality proved to be quite different. The journeys never lasted long, but the feeling of the darkness pressing against oneself always seemed to last an eternity. It was in a way rather like dying all over again—but this time surviving by virtue of having nothing else for the darkness to take.

They were useful though, and worth any momentary discomfort they caused. But that did not change the fact that no matter how many times he had taken them, he—in fact, all of them—had never quite gotten used to the sensation. Having utilized them for so long, Zexion was skilled at hiding the telling signs of the sharp but _deep_ pain caused by the dark corridors. New members, in contrast, took time to adjust. Some, like IX, always seemed ill at ease with the Organization's transport system, but then Saïx had gotten the hang of it so quickly that it only confirmed Vexen's long-held suspicions that the Luna Diviner was not entirely human. Of the neophytes, only Roxas had adjusted as quickly as VII; the others had struggled, but at least they had the guidance of their elders to help them adjust to their new circumstances.

Nine years, he had lived with this. And yet now it seemed like—as he stumbled out of Xehanort's corridor, barely able to catch his breath as he fell to his knees—it was the first time all over again. The situation was painfully familiar, as that time it had been Xemnas leading him through, shortly after the Superior had discovered this particular aspect of their powers. He had taken each of them through the corridor, and one by one they had been reduced to shivers in those few seconds of close proximity to the darkness. All except Xemnas, who seemed completely unaffected by it… although unlike Xehanort, he had at least admittedly taken no particular pleasure in their discomfort.

But then, the smile on Xehanort's face might have been because of something else entirely.

"Riku."

He nearly flinched back from the deep voice, even though he had… expected it. After all, he did not need to hear to know that there had already been another man waiting for them at the opposite end of the corridor; his scent had given him away as soon as they had stepped out. At the man's side, the flickering image of the mouse king looked confused, but then Xehanort was taking him roughly by the arm and dragging him up to greet their once-mentor.

Even though he had known this was coming, he was still unprepared for this meeting. In fact, if he had still possessed emotions, he would have been openly gaping. Because for all intents and purposes, the man standing before them should have been _dead_. They had banished him to the darkness; he had _been_ there, seen it, _participated_ in it… and the darkness should have done what they themselves could not do, consumed and broken down the man until there was nothing left.

But instead, he stood there. Zexion could not see his true face through the mosaic of dark red bandages, but he did not have to. The scent of sea-salt, bringing with it the lingering—_fading_—memories of happier days, was now muted in comparison to the dark rage that emanated from the man. Nevertheless, he _knew_ who it was.

**Ansem**.

For his part, the king obviously had not expected them either. The placid expression—or as much as could be seen through that odd half-mask—seemed to actually _spasm_, going from calm to a split-second of surprise, before twisting into full-blown anger. "_You_."

Zexion had never heard such hatred from the man once known as Ansem the Wise, but he supposed it was not exactly surprising considering the role they had played in his downfall. If he had the capacity to care, he might have been grateful for the way both Ansem and the mouse king kept their focus on Xehanort, who was the only one of them all who did not seem surprised by the present situation.

"Indeed," Xehanort said smugly. It was if he had already expected this. But considering the Heartless's close affinity to the darkness, perhaps he had realized long ago—certainly before Xemnas or the rest of the Organization had—that Ansem had somehow—_miraculously_—managed to escape the supposedly unyielding hold of the darkness. Which apparently was not so unyielding, if the man standing before them was of any indication. "It is good to see you again, _Master Ansem_." It was not a compliment, and the Heartless punctuated the scornful words with a short, mocking bow.

"How did you escape? You should not have had the strength-" Ansem started, his eyes flashing with anger at the jab but otherwise ignoring it, but then his eyes fell upon Zexion and he stopped short.

Ienzo, Zexion reflected rather distantly, would have been frightened by this confrontation, ashamed at having disappointed and ultimately betrayed his mentor so. But then, Zexion was not Ienzo and although a small part of him had indeed dreaded the possibility of this meeting, he had always been so convinced that the man was dead that said possibility had always been pushed aside. And now that it was actually happening, he found that he could not bring himself to really care. He had other things to worry about, primarily in the form of taking advantage of Xehanort's current distraction to escape.

The only problem with this plan was the distinct lack of distraction Xehanort seemed to be feeling. The Heartless's grip on his arm was as tight as ever, even though he knew Xehanort's attention was entirely on the two kings. No, he would not be escaping like this; Xehanort had not forgotten about him, and so he had no choice but to look back at Ansem. It was better than focusing on the Heartless beside him, but only just as the barest traces of hurt managed to flicker through the anger and hatred in Ansem's eyes.

He did not quite know why that hurt affected him the most.

"I could ask you the same thing," Xehanort said pleasantly, the Heartless's voice forcing them all back to the situation at hand. "How did _you_ manage to escape the darkness?"

Ansem blinked once, and his eyes seemed to empty as he looked from Zexion back to Xehanort. "You are not the only one with the know-how to control the darkness. Foolish and blind I might have been to you treachery, but I was not about to stand aside and allow you to destroy other worlds as you have destroyed _mine_." The last of these accusations was directed at Zexion as well, but he just looked coolly back. It would take more than that to get a reaction out of him, especially since he had lived with the consequences of that event for so many years already. "But now that I have answered your question, it is your turn to answer mine. How did you manage to return? You should have been destroyed by that boy-"

"Should have, being the operative phrase," Xehanort cut off, voice still dangerously pleasant. "But no. Did you really believe that boy would be strong enough to defeat me? If you did, you placed your hope in a severely flawed vessel. That boy had so many cracks in his heart that it was easy to find one to dwell in, and then it was only a matter of waiting for the perfect moment to strike. All I had to do was wait for him to give up, just for a second, and-"

"But Riku wouldn't just give up like that!" the mouse king interrupted abruptly, looking quite scandalized by the mere suggestion that his _friend_ could be so weak. "He was doing a lot better, figuring out that he wasn't a bad person! I don't believe he would just give in like that, not the Riku I knew!"

"Except you weren't there," Xehanort replied. Mickey flinched at this, a not very subtle motion, as Xehanort continued in a low, almost hypnotizing voice, "No, you were not there when he needed you most. When his mind was peeled open to reveal all his insecurities once again, shattering his fragile defenses. It was so easy to expose his weaknesses, to let him drown in his own sorrows. Why, just ask our young friend here."

Zexion blinked, not having expected to be brought into this conversation at all as both kings turned as one towards him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Xehanort grinning, but he had little time to care about that. Because while King Mickey looked hurt, as if Zexion had done some personal injury to him, Ansem looked positively furious as he demanded, "Ienzo. What did you _do_?"

_This time_ went unsaid, but he ignored that as he met the man's eyes calmly. "He was unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?!" Ansem seemed to explode at this; his anger was no longer containable and now all of it was being directed at Zexion. "You justify your careless actions because he was _unnecessary_?! Even now, can you not see what you have done? What you have unleashed on the worlds? How-"

"Oh, do not blame him," Xehanort interrupted, sounding bizarrely cheerful. "He did not know what he was doing. But that is nothing new, of course." He directed a fond smile at Zexion, who answered it with a glare.

"But enough of that," the Heartless continued. "I doubt you have anything of use to say, but again that is nothing new. For someone who was deemed so _wise_ by your people, you certainly do not seem to have enough sense to understand what it is that people truly feel in their heart of hearts. Not that it matters much for _some_ people." There was of course no need to ask what Xehanort meant by that.

But beyond that thinly veiled insult, Ansem seemed coherent enough to realize what it was that Xehanort was not saying out loud. "_No_," the man snarled, straightening to his full height. It was less impressive than Zexion had remembered, even with the flowing red robes that flowed out like a curtain of blood. "I will not allow you to escape."

"Escape?" Xehanort repeated with a laugh. "I believe you will find yourself mistaken, old fool. For it is _you_ who will be lucky to escape with your life again."

And before anyone could blink, Xehanort had dropped Zexion's arm. He had no time to take advantage of this fact as the darkness suddenly gathered to the Heartless, and then in a split-second it suddenly swept around them all, making it difficult to even keep his balance. And he knew that he was not even in the center of the storm; even as he struggled to stay upright, he could see the image of the mouse king flicker out completely as Ansem staggered back from the sheer force of darkness's power.

"Still here?" Xehanort asked, stepping forward. This seemed to relieve some of the pressure on him, but Zexion still could only watch as Ansem was flung back like a rag doll, slamming into the far wall. "For someone who has managed to escape from the darkness, you seem pitifully weak."

"Only in the eyes of one who knows nothing," Ansem replied bitterly as he got to his feet, eyes narrowed. The words were not nearly as powerful as they could have been, and Xehanort only shrugged and continued to advance like a cat stalking its prey.

That was all Zexion needed. There was no value in watching a cornered man get slaughtered, so he tore his gaze away from the scene and moved—or stumbled, more like, as the effects of the darkness were still on him—away as far as he could. He could hear as Xehanort laughed and Ansem yelled—although what the man said, he did not know, but he doubted it had anything to do with him anyway—but he ignored it all as he collected all his self-control and channeled it into summoning the dark corridor. It did not even matter where it went, as long as it was _away_ from the Heartless. Once he was far enough he could regroup and return to the World that Never Was, inform the Superior of what was happening, and—

"You should know better than that, Ienzo," a chiding voice interrupted.

He turned sharply. Xehanort was standing right before him, and behind him Ansem was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunate but unexpected, as the king was really nothing compared to the Heartless. Still, he had hoped the man could offer enough resistance to distract Xehanort longer. But it seemed Ansem could not even manage that, and he knew there was nothing else he could do. So he lowered his hands, looking up into Xehanort's eyes. "You killed him?"

Of course, he did not actually need to ask; if Xehanort had managed it, he would have been more… smug about it, and the person that stood before him was not someone who had accomplished what he had set out to do. In fact, the general air of the Heartless was of being thwarted, and Zexion could not help but be a little pleased by that fact. It was perhaps the only good thing that had happened since Xehanort had resurfaced.

The Heartless at least had the decency to look a little aggravated by the failure. "No, although not for lack of trying. But it appears that an old dog _can_ learn some new tricks, as he managed to get away without using the powers of darkness. Something you could possibly benefit from, it seems. Why were you trying to escape again? Is my presence really so onerous?"

"I told you I had no interest in your ploys," Zexion replied sharply. "You know I would not stay if given the choice."

"True enough. But by now you should have accepted the fact that the corridors will not help you. And more than that, you should know _why_."

"Another lesson already?" That had always been Xehanort's teaching methods. Braig and Even had _hated_ it with a passion, while Dilan and Aeleus had shown little interest in playing along. But Ienzo had always taken it as a challenge—what _hadn't_ that boy taken as a challenge, always so desperate to prove that he had earned his place with the other apprentices?—shooting back questions to Xehanort's own and creating a long, convoluted discussion that more often than not went far beyond what Xehanort had originally been trying to say. But that had been the _point_, the ability to make so much from a single starting point, and it had been effective in its own way.

But they were no longer colleagues or allies, and like his fellows he no longer wanted to join the discussion.

"It will be a useful one."

Zexion frowned, but had little choice in the matter. However, he knew better than to approach the question the usual way; no, he would have to find the answer himself. Xehanort would only be willing to tell him if he was right or wrong.

So he gave the Heartless a brief warning look—the look he got back in turn showed it made no difference beyond temporary amusement—before closing his eyes, spreading his senses out to see what he could discern from his current circumstances. Distantly, he could still sense the mouse king's aura—albeit much weaker—as well as the lingering traces of something he could not quite place. But he knew who's it was; there was the unmistakable mark of Ansem the Wise, albeit with something more… sinister mixed through. And of course, there was the Heartless. The darkness swirled around him, like a beast to its master, but that connection was not as strong as it seemed. Hm. So Xehanort did not have perfect control over the darkness, although he certainly had _enough_ to make Zexion's existence miserable.

But as interesting as that was, he found himself spellbound by the changes to _himself_. It was subtle, yet jarring. He could still sense his weapon, at least, although he had expected that. Their powers as Nobodies were derived from the nothingness rather than the darkness, and there was a certain comfort in knowing that even though he knew it was still not enough compared to the powers that Xehanort now wielded. After all, light and darkness were some of the most potent forces in the universe when wielded _properly_, and while Riku had feared it Xehanort strove to dominate it.

And it was precisely for that reason that the corridors were now firmly beyond his grasp.

He opened his eyes slowly, looking at the Heartless as he said coldly, "That is an interesting trick."

"Please," Xehanort said, "there is no need to be so bitter. You should know better than to dismiss it as a… 'trick.'"

He did. Because whatever he chose to call it, he knew what was happening better than he wanted to admit. The darkness obeyed whoever was strongest, and for so long that had been the Organization. They might not have embodied the darkness, having technically been rejected by it, but they used their extensive knowledge and collective force of will to subjugate it anyway. After so long, it was easy to forget just how tenuous their hold truly was, and the harsh return to reality was not something so easily acknowledged as he replied _quite_ bitterly, "Judging by your insufferable smugness, 'trick' seems a perfectly acceptable way to describe what this is."

"I presume from your tone that bitterness is at least one thing Nobodies can still feel."

Zexion did not deign to answer this, but it seemed he was not expected to as Xehanort continued, "You know as well as I that there is no trick. After all, you are quite accomplished at such deceits, are you not? But no matter how many deceptions you may have up your sleeves, it all comes down to simple strength. So unless you somehow manage to become stronger than I in controlling the darkness, you will not be escaping that way."

"Because if that was the case, I would not even have to escape," Zexion said. "I would simply be able to eliminate you."

"Indeed," Xehanort agreed. "But you are still welcome to try, if you feel so inclined. There will be little else for you to do. I doubt much will come of it though."

Then why did he want him around? He frowned, but decided not to ask. He did not think the Heartless would be any more inclined to answer now than he was before, and so he instead said pointedly, "The darkness is not the only power you must contend with."

"True enough," Xehanort admittedly easily. "But by the time you figure out a new method—and we will not bother to consider the possibility that you will be unable to, of course—I will no doubt have discovered another way to suppress your abilities. In which case, you may seriously wish to reconsider your obstinacy." Before Zexion could fully process this, the Heartless had reached over to take him by the arm again, pulling him uncomfortably close so that they were face to face. "It might just get you killed."

"That would be easy for you to do," he agreed. It was getting hard to breathe. Who knew the memory of fear could be so strong?

And Xehanort just smiled. "You see? I told you this lesson would be a useful one."

* * *

_"I do not understand." He looks from his master to the newcomer, who returns the gaze impassively._

_ "There is no need to be upset."_

_ "I am not upset," he protests, setting down the report he was reading to stand and face them both. It had been quite impressively researched, although there were many corrections he would have to point out to Even. The blond would not be pleased, no doubt, but that was not of his concern. All of that would have to wait though; it seems he has something more important to worry about now. "I simply do not understand."_

_ The newcomer—just a wisp of a _boy_, not even grown—looked over at his master. No, _theirs_, if the man was serious about this proposal. "If I may be excused?"_

His_ (he refuses to acknowledge this; how can it possibly be?) master looks reluctant, but finally nods. "Yes. Perhaps that would be for the best. Have one of the others show you around… Braig, perhaps. He knows the palace best." Better than he probably should, in his opinion, considering how that man tended to slack in his duties. How else would he have time to explore the sprawling castle? Not that he cares much either way; if someone wished to be dead weight, better to do it out of sight._

_ When the boy has closed the door, his master sighs and gestures at him to sit. He does so, but only after a sullen pause, and his master does the same on the bed. There are no other chairs besides the one at his desk, one that has been called uncomfortable by all the other apprentices. But he likes it for all its stiffness. Chairs are not meant to be comfortable; they are to be utilized and there is no need for extra frills. That sort of thing is a distraction._

_ His master folds his hands in his lap, and he can only watch as the king says, "It is not as if I am replacing you."_

_ "I never said you were." Is it odd that he never really thinks of the man as his king? Because their relationship is something much more intimate than that, having far-transgressed the boundaries of a teacher and student. It was strictly platonic, of course, but it is not as if sexual relations are necessary to have a meaningful connection with another person. Except then his master would do things like this, decisions he could never understand. First Braig, who he still finds barely tolerable. Then Dilan, Even, and Aeleus—all better than the first, granted, but still their presence was completely incomprehensible to him. And now a boy? What did it all mean? _

_ "Then what is the problem?" His master sounds truly curious, and this makes him frown. How is it that a man who knows so very much understands so little about the human heart? Is it willful blindness? He is not sure he can believe that his master simply does not know the answer to that._

_ But he says none of this, instead choosing to answer, "We do not need any others."_

_ "Just give him a chance."_

_ He has given _him_ a chance. Not the boy, which he knows is what his master means. But the other four apprentices—what were they except chances? He doubted that this boy would be any different; why is it that his master is not capable of seeing as he does?_

_ "He is young." Young and no doubt idiotic._

_ His master smiles gently, "We were all young once."_

_ Perhaps. But the fact that they had all gone through that stage of life does not mean they were all the _same_. There were still the boundaries that separate the strong from the weak, those who know and those who do not. His master may like to believe that they are all human, but even humans had hierarchies. Hierarchies that existed for a _reason_._

_ "This is not about him, is it?" his master suddenly asks, cutting through his thoughts._

_ He does not respond, instead looking away. That is all the answer the man needs as a sigh seems to fill the room. "Please. Do this for me. I do not think you will regret it."_

_ "How do you know what I will feel about this?" he suddenly bursts out. As soon as the words were out he knew he would regret them for the rest of his days, but he no longer cares. "And if you do know how I feel, as you claim to, why do you persist in bringing these… people in? They contribute nothing that I cannot accomplish on my own; instead, I find myself weighed down having to teach them the simplest of things that they would never learn on their own, and-"_

_ "_That is enough_." The words are quiet but angry. His master stands, arms crossed. "You should not speak of them that way. They are your colleagues, and-"_

_ He gets to his feet as well. "I have never once thought of them in such-"_

_ "You will treat them with respect," his master cuts him off. The words are no longer so quiet, forceful in their intensity. "We all must learn one day. Regardless of what you think, you do not know everything. And it is increasingly clearer to me that there are many things that you yourself have yet to learn!"_

_ They glare at each other. How long has it been since they fought like this? He had never questioned his master's decisions to his face; he never would have dared. He respected the man too much, and while he would argue… never like this though. This was different. Fueled more by emotions rather than sense, although he rather thought that his arguments have more logic than his master's._

_ But he will not say that out loud._

_ "Forgive me," he finally says. The words are clipped and stiffly formal. "I did not mean to question your decisions. I apologize for my impertinence."_

_ His master sighs, visibly relaxing. A small smile crosses the man's face, although it is not quite real. "There is nothing to forgive. You merely spoke in haste. I am sure, Xe-"_

_ But he does not bother to wait to hear the end of the sentence, instead leaving and closing the door firmly behind him. He knows by now that his master will not follow, allowing him to collect both his thoughts and _himself_. _Best to let him handle this on his own_, he is sure his master is thinking._

_ And that is exactly what he intends to do, except he has barely taken a step towards his favorite haunt before he finds himself nearly tripping over the boy, who is standing right around the corner. His eyes narrow at the instigator of that argument. "What do you want?"_

_ The boy looks at him through gray hair. He is most likely older than he looks, and there is a strong intelligence in those dark blue eyes. Or at least the potential for it, which causes him to pause long enough for the boy to remind him patiently, "He told me to have one of the others show me around."_

_ All of his irritation seems to disappear, and a small, mocking smile makes its way onto his face. He is not sure who is he mocking though, whether it is the boy, himself, or his master._

_ "Yes?" he says. Of course he knows what the boy is saying—how could he not?—but he wants to see what the boy will do now. Many people would have been stupid enough to take that as a real question, while the more easily intimidated would have chosen a hasty retreat._

_ This boy is apparently neither. Instead he raises an eyebrow. He knows that his meaning is understood, and instead of answering waits patiently for Ansem's foremost apprentice to show the way._

_ He could ignore it, of course. But there is something rather amusing about all of this, and so he relents, shrugging mentally to himself. Why not? Perhaps his master is right. Perhaps—but _just_ perhaps, this will not be as bad as he would have believed._

_ "What is your name?" he finally remembers to ask. He is careful to ensure that his tone holds no actual curiosity in it; he can easily find out from some other source, after all. There is no real need to ask, but there is no harm in it at this point._

_ Besides, it has the interesting side effect of putting the boy a little off-balance. He had apparently not been expecting that question, and after a moment to recover, he responds._

_ "… Ienzo."_

* * *

He opened his eyes for the first time in what felt like years, and found himself staring up into blue eyes.

"So… ra?" he asked blearily—why did his throat feel so weird?—as he just continued to lie there and… stare. And even that was hard to do when his vision sucked so much, but he couldn't find the energy to reach up and rub his eyes. Anyways, he was pretty sure that wouldn't work when he was hallucinating. Either that or just plain dead, since those were currently the only two explanations that came to mind to explain why his friend was here when the guy should have been off doing something more productive. Like saving the world from _his_ fuck ups.

Apparently that concept was having a little trouble processing because the eyes weren't going away. Sora was still there, and he didn't _feel_ dead, so finally he tried to sit up as he muttered, "What are you-?"

Before he could finish, he was abruptly cut off. "Use your eyes, boy. Do I look like the Keyblade Master to you?"

_That_ was finally enough to get his mind working again. His eyes widened, and only the searing pain in his head kept him from jumping up and out of his skin as he finally managed to focus on the person standing over him. And when he did, it didn't take him long to realize that the eyes he had thought—rather stupidly, now that he thought about it—were Sora's were in reality a much darker shade than his friend's, and not to mention so damn _cold_. They were nothing like Sora's, not even on a superficial level. But they were still familiar, as well as the voice that had answered him.

"_You_!" The realization was enough to get the adrenaline going this time around, and he jumped up—only to barely miss out on knocking heads if the guy had not anticipated the movement and leaned back with a _totally not condescending_ roll of the eyes. It would have been impressive if Riku was in the mood to care, which he wasn't. Especially since the person in question was also the _enemy_, having just been trying to kill him a few… minutes, right? A few minutes ago. It couldn't possibly have been any longer than that, could it?

Because he remembered. He remembered Sora attacking, but that hadn't really been his friend, had it? It seemed so obvious now, but he remembered that… terrifying guilt he had felt when Sora—well, really _that_ guy pretending to be his friend—as the words he had always feared were thrown in his face.

Was it all just a dream? The darkness, the voice, the self-hate and accusations? He had thought for sure that he had been taken over, but… that couldn't be right if he was here. When Ansem had taken him over the last time, he had not been able to do anything. He had thought he was dead, banished to a hell that was nothing but pitch black, and it was only when Sora had defeated the Heartless that he realized he was still _breathing_.

It had been the oddest feeling, to be alive when he was sure he was dead, and what he felt now was… a little similar, but not quite. He still wasn't sure if what had happened had actually… well, happened. Everything just felt so weird, like he had woken up from a long dream and was not quite sure if he was still asleep.

He supposed that… technically, he could just ask. But the thought was not particularly appealing, so he settled instead for demanding, "What's going on here? What are you doing here? Where's Sora? Hell, where the hell am _I_?!"

All he got for his trouble was another roll of the eyes, along with an extra bonus of an exasperated sigh. Yeah, subtlety obviously wasn't very high on the guy's list of priorities—not very surprising, seeing how if the roles were switched he'd probably be doing the same exact thing—and he scowled.

So maybe he was being a little immature, but he wasn't really interested in being polite right now. After all, the guy had _tried to kill him_. Not to obsess about it or anything, but nearly getting murdered wasn't exactly something that was easy to forget. And in his frustration, he grabbed the guy's—he had to think of a better way to describe him, but he didn't know his name and he wasn't _quite_ at the point of resorting to 'asshole'—ridiculous black coat as he snarled, "Answer me!"

"I would, if you would just give me the chance to," was the dry reply. No effort was made to shrug off Riku's grip though as the guy continued, "But then, you seem more interested in making demands than actually listening, so I will continue to wait until you have decided to stop acting like a child before I answer any of your questions. Because if there is one thing I deplore, it is repeating myself."

At this, he could only sputter, although a part of him wondered if he could really argue with that. But yeah, totally beside the point. "Fine," he finally growled out as he released his grip on the dark fabric, sitting back. "I'm listening, so _talk_."

The other man didn't look overly convinced by his sincerity—which was good because there wasn't any—but apparently decided that it wasn't really worth pushing the point. Either that or he just didn't care, and Riku had a pretty good idea which one was more likely. "You are in his world now."

He stared, "What… wait, no, just… what's that supposed to mean? Whose world?!"

The other man just shrugged, almost listlessly. He seemed bored. "A world of darkness, created for the sole purpose of housing him as he recovers. It is not a true world in the sense that it could exist on its own, but rather is something he has carved from the darkness itself as he gathers his strength."

Riku was starting to get the distinct feeling that he was seriously missing something. And worse than that, he was starting to get the sinking suspicion that… no, it couldn't have happened. He refused to believe it. Because if he didn't… he just… no.

_No_.

He looked at the guy, trying not to show anything except… anything _but_ fear and dread and everything else that was starting to bubble up inside of him. "Look, either you just really like confusing people—" not exactly a far-fetched concept considering how thoroughly he had been manipulated in that fake Destiny Islands, but again, _beside_ the point, "—or you just suck at explaining things. Because you are seriously making no sense. What the hell is going on here? Who are you even talking about? What-"

"You lost." _But you already knew that, didn't you?_ the dark blue eyes asked him.

No. He couldn't have. He refused to believe it. "But-"

"You lost to the darkness in your heart." Those eyes continued to watch him, and the guy spoke slowly, as if speaking to an idiot, "The Heartless defeated you."

Riku grabbed at his chest. He had no idea what the hell that was supposed to accomplish, but… how could this have _happened_? "You… you mean Ansem?!"

He could feel the blood draining out of his face, the rush of blood in his ears. He felt like he was drowning all over again, except instead of darkness it was just the weight of the realization that he had… _oh god_. "But… no, that couldn't have happened. That-!"

"It could. And it did. Now calm down before you have a heart attack." A slight twitch of the mouth accompanied the words, so impatient and annoyed and yet somehow so completely _apathetic_. It did nothing to calm him down, even—or maybe _especially_ as the guy continued, "You lost to the darkness. The Heartless took over your body, and relegated you to a corner of your mind. A very small corner, it seems, as you appear to have no recollection of what has been happening."

"No," he suddenly said. The guy—_asshole, bastard,_ _anything to get his mind off of this_—looked visibly annoyed by his interruption, and he struggled desperately to figure out what he was even trying to say. "No, that… that can't be right. I mean—shit, don't give me that look! I know it's happened before! But it's different this time. I mean… last time, I… I don't know how to explain it, alright?!" he snapped at the increasingly skeptical look on the _asshole's_ face. "But it's different. That's the only way I know how to explain it. I mean, _this_ never would have happened. There wasn't any way it would have happened! If he really did take me over like you said he did, why am I here now? I shouldn't be able to do this! He just couldn't have taken me over again!"

His voice was getting increasingly higher-pitched with each word; he was two seconds from screeching, he just knew it. But he just had to explain that this couldn't be happening, that he wasn't being taken over again. Because it was _different_, which meant that something _else_ had to be different too.

Didn't it?

There was a silence, those cold blue eyes looking at him with thinly veiled distaste. He looked up to meet them, and even in his despair he couldn't help but take a look at the person those eyes belonged to.

And what he saw kinda… surprised him. The asshole looked pretty young, which he hadn't noticed because of the gray hair. But that obviously had nothing to do with age, considering everything else, and even that look of perpetual stick up the ass didn't really take away from a certain… youth.

Of course, none of that really mattered right now. But he needed something to distract him because if he didn't, he really would have that fucking heart attack that the bastard had warned him about, and then it wouldn't really matter because he would be _dead_. Although right now he wasn't sure if being dead would be that bad a thing because he might as well be if what had been said was true and Ansem really had taken him over again. How could he have let this happen?

_You hated being an islander, cut off from other worlds. So you opened the door to darkness and destroyed the islands. _You_ did that! And now you belong to the darkness. Look at what you are now!_

"You did this." He spoke the words slowly, _surely_, as he repeated, "_You_ did this."

"Pardon?" But even though he was asking, Riku could tell by the asshole's expression that it wasn't sincere. And that pissed him off even more than anything else as he slammed a fist into the ground.

"You did this! If it wasn't for you, this wouldn't have happened! If you hadn't tried to trick me… to kill me! You were trying to kill me!" he yelled, and all the while the guy just continued to stand there, arms crossed, face completely and utterly devoid of emotion.

"Yes," was the flat reply. "Get over it."

He remembered light, burning and blinding and the _pain_. And he remembered the darkness as it wrapped around him so that _he could not breathe_, and the cold, painfully familiar voice as it laughed at him.

_Look at you, shrinking away from the light… You're not Riku anymore… You're just a pawn of the darkness. So be it. It's time for you to face the light!_

And this… _this_ was the person who had caused all of this. He didn't even _deny _it. Instead, he stood there, so nonchalant, as if it was _nothing_! Riku didn't know what to say, didn't know how to not just launch himself at the guy and beat the shit out of him. His self-control was slipping, and his hands clenched as he looked at the man, eyes blazing, and said again, "_You did this_."

"Now that, I do not agree with," the other man said shortly. "I meant to kill you, that is true. The light was supposed to consume you. But you were weaker than I suspected. Or perhaps stronger, since you did not immediately die. But either way, in your weakness, you allowed the Heartless to take you over. I had no part in that."

"How could you say that?!" he demanded. "If it wasn't for you-"

"If you were really that weak to begin with, it would have happened eventually."

"You don't know that!"

"Don't I? And can you truly say that you do?" he was challenged. He could only glare as the bastard continued, "What do you think would have happened, Riku? That he would have been content to be confined to a corner of your heart? That he would never try to take you over again, as soon as you showed any sign of a weakness? Yes, I gave him that opportunity to escape. But it was through your _own_ foolish inability to accept yourself that you allowed him to escape, and if you continue to persist in such foolish accusations, than I see no point in you coming out at all."

Riku just continues to glower. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"What that _means_, if you honestly need me to spell it out for you, is that the only reason why you are here now is because the Heartless has apparently lost control. I highly doubt that it will be a permanent affliction though, as _you_ are no longer the master of your own body. In fact, considering how easily you lost in the first place, I would say that you do not have very much time left before he regains himself, so you should seriously consider utilizing that time to the best of your abilities. And I can assure you, blaming me is far from the most efficient use of what precious little time you have left."

He opened his mouth, but only a strangled silence came out. As much as he didn't want to admit it… he knew, deep down, that there was some sense in what was being said. But still, the fact that this guy had tried to kill him… how the hell could he believe anything he said? He already knew that the person standing before him was a master manipulator; just look at what had happened in that false Destiny Islands! Who was to say that it wasn't just happening all over again, that he was being led to a false sense of security before he was once again struck down from behind? Except this time it would be for good, with no chance of ever regaining control from the Heartless.

So he looked at him. Kept his face calm. And finally said, without any emotion, "Give me one reason why I should believe you."

They looked at each other. He refused to blink, or to flinch back from the emptiness in those dark blue eyes, even though they were almost… disturbing. "Why should I trust you, after you tried to kill me?"

"What other choice do you have?" was the cool reply.

"That isn't enough."

"Interesting. Explain it to me, Riku. What exactly is it about that reason that is insufficient to convince you that your options are restricted to this single one?"

He flushed slightly, but finally managed to muster up the sense to reply, "Spare me the sarcasm. You didn't tell me anything about why I should trust you."

"I never said you should trust me. I fail to recall when I mentioned anything of the sort. But trust or no trust, that does not change the fact that I am the only person who is capable of assisting you against the Heartless in any way, something you should seriously consider when your own abilities are completely inadequate."

"Yeah, I'll give you that," he said, and he pointed a finger at the guy. "But why the hell should I listen to you at all? I mean, you did try to kill me. Why are you suddenly changing your mind about that, if you even have? Maybe you're just trying to get me to let my guard down so you can try to finish off the job. And if that's the case," he said, not taking his eyes away, "I should just kill you now and figure a way out of this myself."

"Kill me? That seems rather dark, Riku," was the humorless reply. When he didn't say anything, there was an impatient sigh. "_Fine_. If it is so important to you.

"Helping you benefits me. In stark contrast, I have no reason to help that Heartless. Indeed, I have expressed to him that it is my preference not to be anywhere near him, but my opinions have been disregarded and I remain here against my will. Should you defeat the Heartless, I would no longer have that problem. So I do, in fact, have a reason to help you, one that has nothing to do with you. I simply see no way of distancing myself from that man without assisting you. I will never imply that it is for any other reason. Your welfare is of no concern of mine, except as a means to an end. But as that end is the same for the both of us, there is no reason why we should not cooperate."

There was something painfully… clinical about the way the guy spoke. Here were the facts, take it or leave it. There was no emotion, only cold logic, and considering the topic they were on that seemed a _little_ weird at best. He didn't really know what to make of it, and decided that was beside the point anyway.

"How about the fact that you tried to kill me?" he demanded again. Because he still hadn't gotten a good response to that.

Judging from the roll of the eyes, he probably wouldn't be getting one. "Must you always dwell on things like this?" was the scathing reply. "Did it ever occur to you that the reason why you were so vulnerable to the darkness in the first place was because of your inability to let go of things?"

"And I bet you would know all about that," he replied sarcastically. But his words had barely left his mouth when a dark look crossed over the pale face, and he slowly realized that his remark had hit closer to home than he had expected.

Well, that was kinda interesting.

"Yes," the guy said. "As a matter of fact, I would."

Riku didn't know what that was supposed to mean, and maybe that was why he finally asked the question he had wanted to ask ever since he had met the guy in Castle Oblivion. "Who _are_ you?"

"Just a nobody." The answer was followed by a short laugh. "But I doubt you would have grasped the finer distinction. In that case, perhaps the question you should be asking is _what_ am I."

"What are you trying to say?" Because there _was_ something there, but he didn't know what, and the fact that he couldn't figure it out was starting to drive him crazy. Maybe the guy just got off on sounding all mysterious and shit, but… still. He didn't want to play along, but he knew he didn't have a choice if he wanted to know what was going on. And Riku knew by this point that he had to know all the facts if he wanted to get out of this, especially since part of the reason why he was in this situation in the first place was that lack of information.

"A Nobody is a being with no heart. Hence, we are incapable of emotions. We are the shells of people who have been taken by the darkness." The dark blue eyes focused on his, and then with a shrug, the… _thing_ continued, "I have no heart. No morality. No _emotions_."

"But… but that's impossible," he said. But the protest was weak at best as he tried to comprehend what was being said.

A raised eyebrow. "And people turning to Heartless is so believable in comparison?"

He sputtered, but again couldn't really come up with any decent response. Because… well, technically the guy was right. If anyone had told him a few months ago that there were creatures made of darkness running around stealing people's hearts, he would have pointed them in the direction of the nearest mental hospital. Hell, a year ago he never would have realized the extent of the worlds that existed beyond his own. He'd dreamed about it, sure, but… actually experiencing it, seeing them… that was completely different. And while he accepted it now so easily, he remembered the first time he had opened his eyes only to find himself in a completely different world.

Of course, that was partly because he had just finished getting _his_ islands destroyed.

A fact that this… _Nobody_ had no problem pointing out to him not too long ago. And yet even then, there had been no real malice in the Nobody's reactions. He had sensed it even then, which might have been why he had been so slow in recognizing the danger. Everything the guy had done, then and now, had just been so… dispassionate, so uncaring, so _nothing_, despite the seriousness of those actions.

But not having a heart—he didn't really know why he just couldn't believe that. How would something like that work? Was it actually possible? He couldn't even begin to comprehend it. Could this person before him, a person who barely looked much older than him, really not be….

_Human_?

Somehow, he knew what the answer was. And that was what decided for him.

"Alright," he finally said. "Okay, Nobody, I get it. Well, not really, but enough of it. I don't trust you, but it's not like I have any other choice, do I?"

The Nobody folded his arms, looking quite disinterested in the conversation. "No. You do not."

Did he really know what he was doing? A part of him seriously thought that he was batshit insane, but the rest of him… well, the Nobody was right. What other choice did he have? He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know how to do anything. He needed help, no doubt about that. Even if there was no trust, it was better than nothing.

Besides, there was something about such lack of caring that sorta resulted in… trust, he guessed. It was weird and totally didn't make sense, but he had reached the point where he realized that not everything _had_ to make sense. Hell, if he sat around waiting for things to make sense, he'd _really_ be screwed then.

"So I'll help you, and you'll help me."

"That should be simple enough even for you."

He decided to take the moral high road and ignore that jab, but then it wasn't like there was any point in making a fuss about it. It wasn't like the bastard was going to care anyway.

And yet, more important than any annoyance he felt was… there it was again. That haunted, trapped feeling of being taken over. Already he could feel his grip on himself loosening, the tug of the darkness as it threatened to envelop him. He didn't know how long it had been there, if maybe he'd just been ignoring it in his anger and desperate need to know, but now that he was calmer and could think straight he had no defenses against the darkness. Its presence was more insistent and he just knew that he couldn't deny it anymore. He didn't have much time left.

The Nobody seemed to be aware of that as well, turning away stiffly. But then he remembered something, and he asked, "Who are you?"

Dark blue eyes glanced sharply at him. "We already went through this."

"That's not what I mean," he replied quickly. He felt oddly nervous, as if asking such a… personal question was—no, he was being ridiculous! It wasn't that big a deal anyway. It wasn't like the guy was capable of _caring_. "You have a name, don't you?"

"Pardon?" The look he was getting was half perplexed, half annoyed, and one hundred percent convinced that he was insane.

"Well, I don't know what to call you. Since we're working together now, shouldn't I at least get a name?"

The Nobody blinked at him, expression almost curious. "What does it matter?"

"Maybe it doesn't. But I don't want to just keep calling you 'Nobody'." Or asshole, but that was something the guy didn't need to know.

"I fail to see what difference it could make."

He was starting to get annoyed by this run-around, and the pull of the darkness wasn't improving his mood at all. So rather than be diplomatic, he snapped, "Then you won't have any problem with telling me."

For what felt like a long moment, the Nobody continued to just look at him with that _almost_ expression, and right when he felt like fidgeting or maybe just giving into the darkness to get away from that all-too-knowing expression, the guy said simply, "Zexion."

… _Ienzo_.

_Ienzo? What a curious name._

_ As if yours is any better, Xe-_

"You seem confused," a dry voice interrupted, and he blinked sharply and found himself staring into Ien—Zexion's face.

_Ienzo_.

What the hell was that all about?

It took him a moment to find his voice, but Zexion didn't particularly seem to care about the delay as he shook his head and said in an awkward stutter, "Uh… yeah. Okay."

"And you are Riku."

That strange pronouncement seemed to jolt a little bit of life back into him, "Uh, yeah? I knew that already."

"I thought it might be best to remind you of that fact," Zexion replied simply, not an ounce of emotion in those dark blue eyes. "You seem to forget it so easily."

"Thanks a lot," he replied sarcastically. His head was starting to pound; the call of the darkness was all-consuming, and he didn't think he could resist it any longer. Everything was starting to hurt, and he didn't know how much longer he could fight when he didn't even know where to begin.

"Xehanort."

He stopped short, his confusion enough to distract him from the impending darkness one last time as he stared blankly at the Nobody. "Huh?" He hadn't thought he could get any more baffled—he had blithely assumed that he had reached some sort of freaking confusion threshold when it came to Zexion, but apparently not if all the guy had to do was say a word and he'd suddenly just be… lost again.

"If we are going to use real names, then you might as well know. The Heartless that is within you—you may refer to him as Ansem, but that is not what his true name is. His name is Xehanort."

He started to ask how that was supposed to help him, but then suddenly stopped. Instead, he just continued to look at Zexion, trying to figure out what the point was without having to get it out of the Nobody. And maybe there wasn't one, but that was going to have to wait for another time.

Because it was at that point that his grip on reality loosened completely, and he fell back into the never-ending darkness.

* * *

Upcoming Chapter Excerpt:

"_This is all your fault! If you hadn't tried to kill me, none of this would have happened!"_

_Zexion just looked at him with that carefully blank look, but Riku refused to back down. Even without the Nobody saying it, he knew what could, probably should have been said._

If you hadn't been so weak….

_But to his surprise, Zexion didn't say that. Instead, the Nobody just said quietly, "If it makes you feel better, if it will compel you to act, then by all means continue to blame me. It is not as if I will care anyway. But if I may, I do believe it would be infinitely more productive to stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something about your current predicament."_


	3. Dichotomy

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: What I did was that I moved what was supposed to be the last scene in the previous chapter to the first scene of this chapter. I don't know how much I like that decision since the intent of the scene in question was to set up the world that Xehanort had 'created', but because the chapter was just getting too long I decided to just meld it into this chapter's original first scene. Hopefully this will be the last of moving things around, although considering how the chapters just seem to keep getting longer, I don't really know anymore.

Part of it might just be that Zexion is getting more narrative than I had expected him to. The original intent of the story was to focus more on Riku, but then it split more evenly. Now I suppose that Zexion scenes are more common because he is around all the time, while Riku has a time-share on his body.

As a note, this story is based on the original GBA game, not Final Mix+. Thus, Lexaeus's death was of his own doing, rather than the Heartless taking over Riku and finishing him off.

**III: Dichotomy**

When _it_ had happened, Zexion had been—for lack of a better word—shocked. There were obvious deficiencies in such a description, as he was incapable of genuinely feeling such an emotion, but the general intent of the term was the same. He had not at all been expecting Riku to somehow gain control, as he had previously assumed that Riku had been completely subsumed by the Heartless.

Of course, he mused to himself as the boy's eyes closed and tendrils of darkness enveloped him, his assumption seemed to be quite a ways off. Not that he could bring himself to be… annoyed with his mistake, as the boy's appearance introduced a possibility that he never would have predicted.

He had never liked unknown factors. That had been part of the reason why he had wished to get rid of the boy in the first place. Riku was strong, strong enough to challenge even Sora. But he was not very controllable, and after the Keyblade Master had defeated XI, Riku was no longer useful. His strength, however, meant that he could not just be left free to act as he pleased, and so Zexion had found it prudent to destroy the boy before he could pose a threat to the Organization.

But he had miscalculated. Riku was not strong; rather, he had the _potential_ to be strong, but was hampered by shame and self-reproach. Zexion had, of course, used that to his advantage, but he had not in the process realized exactly how exposed those same advantages made the boy to _others_.

He had never forgotten that Xehanort lay in the boy's heart, but he had assumed that Riku was capable of keeping the Heartless in check. Obviously, he had been wrong. As soon as Riku had shown signs of giving up, of faltering under the guilt he had built up, Xehanort had seized control and taken over the body.

It was a foolish mistake, one that he would be paying for. Zexion knew he should have taken the Heartless into account, but he had not. After all, the boy had never really shown any signs of losing control during his trip through the lower levels of Castle Oblivion, and Zexion had assumed that if Xehanort was strong enough, he would have long ago made his presence known. Again, a miscalculation, as he of all people should have remembered that Xehanort knew how to bide his time. He never worked too quickly, always waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike in order to cause maximum damage.

Zexion did not know how much this oversight would cost him, but he had no doubt it would be great.

Still, he now knew he at least had the chance to minimize the damage. How odd that it would be coming from the same boy who was the source of the problem in the first place. Of course, he had no doubt that Riku thought of him in precisely the same way, but unlike Riku he did not particularly care. What had happened had happened, and there was really no point in dwelling on it. They had new problems now, and to extract themselves from the situation, they would have to work together. But the alliance was temporary at best, and more dangerous for himself.

A part of him did wonder if perhaps he would be better off to throw his lot in with Xehanort. After all, the Heartless had _technically_ promised him a heart. Yet as much as that same part of him wanted to jump at the opportunity, the rest of him was too grounded in reality to even consider it. Xehanort's word meant nothing at best, and he would do well to remember that fact.

Besides, there was still that… something about Riku. The boy was decidedly weaker now, but he showed signs of a latent strength that could greatly overwhelm Xehanort's. It was really just a matter of actually pulling _out_ that potential, which would be more difficult than it should have been considering how he was working with a scared idiot who did not know what to do or who he was, and was obviously unable to keep control over his own body, let alone the powers that lay within him.

But like Riku, what other choice did he have? He did not want to place his continued existence in such a flawed vessel, but there were no other options.

It would not be too difficult, he supposed. Playing for both sides. Xehanort knew nothing of Riku's existence, and he would not if Zexion had any say in it. As for Riku, the boy seemed naïve enough to assume that he would only work for one side—besides, what could Riku do should Zexion choose the winning side?

The only problem with such thinking was that only one winning side would _benefit_ him. Helping Riku would give him the much-needed opportunity to regain his own freedom. If he stayed with Xehanort, he would forever be under the Heartless's control. If, on the other hand, Riku won—he had no doubt that he would be able to go his own way. Riku would probably be too dumbfounded to think of stopping him.

However, the inherent risks in helping Riku were much greater. Because if Xehanort found out, he had no doubt that he would be destroyed. Having already died once, he had little interest in going through that again.

He also knew that, even if Xehanort won, he still ran the risk of getting killed. The Heartless was volatile at best. Certainly, he presented a calm demeanor to the world, but Zexion knew that there had always been something _wrong_ about the man, and that had not changed since losing to the darkness. If anything, it made him more dangerous, and Zexion was good enough at recognizing danger to know that he did not want any involvement.

The choices that were being presented to him were, he was beginning to think, one and the same. There was something decidedly depressing about that, but he did not dwell on it. He did not have time to dwell. This temporary world that Xehanort had created was starting to drain him, although it should not have. But he did not understand the properties of the world, and Xehanort had not seen fit to explain them since they had arrived. If he could have, he would have explored them on his own—certainly he had enough _time_ for that, since he had essentially done nothing since arriving here—but that proved to be completely impossible.

It had not taken him very long to realize how helpless he was in this world, without his control over the darkness. His one attempt at stepping out of the room Xehanort had given him had made him realize quite quickly why there were no locks on the… door, as he had barely gone through when the Heartless came swarming towards him.

What that was supposed to _accomplish_, he did not know. Lacking a heart, he had nothing to give to the Heartless. Lacking control, he posed no threat. And yet still they had come at him, and he had barely escaped with his existence in-tact as they literally tried to rip him apart in those few seconds he had stood there.

He expected that Xehanort's control over the darkness extended to the Heartless as well, and his suspicions were more or less verified when Xehanort had come to visit a few minutes later, looking decidedly amused.

_ "What have you done with yourself, Ienzo?"_

He had ignored the Heartless, focusing instead on healing his wounds. He at least retained that power, and it made for a good distraction. His abilities had never been quite as good as Vexen's, but they were adequate enough. Most of the cuts had been superficial anyway, although some were deeper than he would have liked. He had wanted to make sure they were all clean before he sealed them off, so as to stave off the infection that he did not know would actually affect him anyway.

But still, it had been a classic case of better safe than _sorry_.

The conversation had more or less ended there, as he had been in no mood to talk once the healing was complete. It was draining, and it was not like he'd had anything to say to Xehanort anyway.

That complete lack of a common interest had not, however, stopped Xehanort from continuing to visit him. And it was during their… current visit that Riku had chosen to come out.

At least the timing had been good. If Riku had managed to seize control any other time, he probably would have done something unforgivably _stupid_, and gotten himself killed while leaving Zexion with no means of escape. Still, the situation was far from ideal—he kept his face calm but a sense of foreboding flickered through him as he watched the Heartless emerge once again from the boy's body. It would have been best if he could have just left, and figured out what to tell the Heartless later, but such a move was preempted by the creatures that lurked outside the door. Die there or die here, it really made no difference, except that there he could at least try to provide some reason for Xehanort's lapse of conscious.

He said nothing, as the orange eyes slowly opened. They were such a contrast from Riku's, large green eyes scared and confused. There was some confusion here, but certainly no fear, and he watched quietly as Xehanort slowly shook his head before focusing on him.

There was a silence, and finally he said, "You blanked out." The words were flat, and he let nothing in. It was an observation, nothing more. What Xehanort chose to do with it would determine his own next move.

"Did I?" It was half a question, half not, and he thought it best to treat it as neither by saying nothing. After another pause, Xehanort broke the momentary lull with a small smile, "Yes. Perhaps I did simply… blank out. But I see you did not try to take advantage of my temporary distraction to escape again."

"I am not a fool," he replied, glad for the change in topic. "There is nothing to gain from that, except my own destruction."

"That is a surprisingly accommodating attitude," Xehanort said, his voice almost a purr. It was easy not to show disgust when it was hard to remember such a feeling, but he nearly slipped at that. In fact, he rather thought he did, but Xehanort did not comment on it as the Heartless instead continued, "But I suppose Ienzo was always a quick learner."

"I am not Ienzo," he said automatically. The Heartless still had not broken that irritating habit of calling him by that long-dead apprentice's name. He was sure that Xehanort persisted in it to irritate him. Either that or it was a distraction, as he could not help but want to respond every time that name was used. It was almost as if Xehanort did not want him to forget the person he once was, but what was the point of that?

And more than the confusion the use of the name caused him, he hated being _reminded_. Ienzo was dead, and calling him by that name was like a mockery of the person he once was and the ghost he was _now_. Because he deplored being associated with that weakling of a boy, even if _he_ had been that boy once. But as a Nobody, with the benefit of an unbiased eye untainted by emotional baggage, he saw all too clearly that Ienzo was simply an idiot who had been so blinded by the possibility of knowledge that he had allowed himself to be manipulated by a man who knew far more than he should have.

He was not alone in that, as all of them—from Braig to Dilan to Even to Aeleus… even Ansem the Wise, who had seen what was happening but not understood that he needed to _stop_ it—had suffered from such blindness. Yet the fact that Ienzo's stupidity had been shared by some of the brightest minds of Radiant Garden did nothing to soothe his irritation with the boy, and indeed made him further question the condition of the human race if that was supposed to be the best it had to offer. But even then, he shared a special distaste for the boy he once was, the child who had gotten involved too deeply in circumstances far beyond his pathetic capabilities. A prodigy was what they had called him, but then how was it that prodigies and geniuses could have so _little_ common sense? Could be so blinded by their pursuit of knowledge that they failed entirely to see what was happening right before their very eyes?

No one had ever succeeded in giving him a satisfactory answer, and at some point during the past nine years, he had decided that in all likelihood, one simply did not _exist._

None of this, of course, mattered to the Heartless. His silence seemed to be making Xehanort bored as the man stood, his voice mockingly soothing as he said, "Of course. Because you are a Nobody now. But that is no reason to deny the past."

He preferred to thinking of it more as not ignoring his own past mistakes, but he doubted the Heartless would appreciate the fine difference. So instead he asked, not entirely expectant of an answer as he had already asked several times before, "And what is it that you intend to do now?"

A moment too late, he wondered what in the name of Kingdom Hearts he was _doing_. If he had just kept his mouth shut, Xehanort would have gone away and left him in peace. But instead he had spoken, and now Xehanort was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and impatience.

But then, maybe he did know, even if he did not want to admit it. He could not just allow Xehanort to leave like this; no, if the Heartless had gone, he might have wondered about that lapse of consciousness. Perhaps though, by switching the topic to something else entirely, Xehanort would not think to ponder on it. The likelihood of that was slim, he supposed, since the man had always shown a terrible tenacity. Still, it was better than doing nothing, and he waited for the answer he already knew.

"This again?" Xehanort asked. "Are you not content with the answer I have already given you? We will stay here until I have recovered my full strength."

The Heartless was truly arrogant, having no problem revealing that he was not yet at maximum capacity to a Nobody who would like nothing more than to take advantage of the situation. Most likely, Xehanort thought him incapable of doing anything—which was in a way, correct. Or at least it had been. Now Zexion had a better idea to the Heartless's weakness, one that he wondered if Xehanort himself realized. Still though, he said, "You seem quite capable as is."

Xehanort laughed. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Ienzo. And if you seek to goad me into taking on my Nobody before I am ready, that will not work. My Nobody is on an entirely different level from you, I do believe."

Egotistical even of his Nobody. Xehanort truly was something. "I seek to do nothing," he replied, voice flat. "But as to your recovery, I fail to have seen much difference in the past few days. Perhaps if you spent less time blathering to me of absolutely nothing at all, you would have better results."

"I thought you would enjoy the company."

He shrugged, knowing whatever he said would not make a difference anyway. Xehanort needed to have an audience, and the mindless Heartless did not provide much in the listening department. Zexion doubted that this was the only reason why Xehanort kept him around, but right now it certainly seemed that way. "Nobodies do not feel, let alone enjoy. I would not care one way or the other."

"That is a shame. Ienzo used to enjoy my theories so."

"That was before your theories got him killed." The words slipped out before he could control them, and it took everything in him not to put a hand over his mouth—_idiot!_—as Xehanort blinked at him, mouth slightly ajar. It would have been comical if it had been anyone _but_ Xehanort, and a dull voice in the back of his head mildly pointed out that if it had been his aim to distract the Heartless, he had done quite an effective job of it.

"You blame me." The Heartless actually sounded surprised… incredulous, in fact, and Zexion frowned. Could it really have been that Xehanort had not _already_ figured out that fact? He would have thought it was obvious from his reluctance to cooperate, but clearly their minds worked on completely separate planes. "You blame _me_ for your loss."

"It matters not what I think," he replied, his voice sharper than he would have liked. Why did it bother him that the Heartless know about it, when he would not have cared before? Because he truly had assumed that Xehanort knew, and the fact that he did not… it felt like he had given up some valuable piece of information with no reward in return. "It changes nothing."

"On the contrary," Xehanort said, speaking for them both. Condescending was a delicate way of describing his tone, and the frown quickly turned to a scowl. "Because I do believe that there were people _besides_ me in those labs, performing those experiments. In fact, if I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who persuaded the old fool to build the labs in the first place."

"_That_ was Ienzo. And he acted with no little encouragement from you," he replied. Common sense told him to shut _up_, that there was no longer any point to this conversation and the chance that he would get hurt as a result of it was rising with every exchanged barb, but his mouth was no longer quite cooperating. He could not help but resent the insinuations; no one liked to be reminded of their role in a catastrophe, even if he technically did not feel any guilt over it. But the fact that he himself had set forth events that had placed him in this current situation—that was annoying, emotions or not. "You have said it yourself. Ienzo was a child, and you used that to your advantage."

The Heartless shrugged, completely unrepentant. "Indeed. A child who was easy to bend to my will. You always thought you were so clever. But it's always the ones who think they are so good at using others that are the most easily manipulated. You were no exception, and you never will be."

"_That was Ienzo_," he repeated, although he knew it was useless. "I am not him. And having seen firsthand the results of your labors, perhaps you can see why I am disinclined to work alongside you again."

"Yes, you have said that many times already. I doubt you are any closer to believing it than the first," Xehanort replied. Zexion could hear the slight edge to the words, and finally, _finally_ that was enough to bring his tongue to a halt. He fell silent, feigning lost interest—or perhaps just sulkiness; surely that was something Nobodies could still do, considering IX's tendency to pout when he was ignored—in the conversation as he turned away to gaze at the wall. Or perhaps not so feigned, as he simply realized that it would be better not to speak. The words they had exchanged were more than enough for both of them, and he knew that the silence before him was that of Xehanort being torn between continuing and leaving, and he was more than content to wait patiently for the latter to become the preferred option.

It was not long before the door shut. Quietly, as slamming doors was something Xehanort was not wont to do even in anger. He was not sure if the Heartless was indeed angry; most likely not, but it was not completely beyond the realm of possibility. Xehanort had always been very… hot and cold, reacting violently one moment and acting coolly the next. Ienzo had gotten quite good at recognizing the fluctuations, and Zexion had not forgotten the telling signs of such volatile behavior. Xehanort had been frustrated, yes, but not yet in the mood to push things to the breaking point.

_Yet_, being the operative word.

Once he was sure that he was very much alone, he let out a soft sigh. The Heartless would not be pleased with the lack of control, and would probably ponder for days for a way to get it back. But now the slip he would be obsessing over would be the one over Zexion, rather than the one over himself.

While Zexion did not like the turn of attention to him, it was certainly better than Xehanort realizing that Riku was not as helpless as he appeared to be. He needed Riku alive, after all. There would be no victory if the boy was completely pulled under. No, what he needed was for Riku to win—or better yet, for the two to be so equally matched that they destroyed each _other_. That would be optimal indeed. And if he needed to set his expectations lower, perhaps he did not even need the boy to win. If Riku could cause enough damage to the Heartless, he might lose enough control over the darkness for Zexion to escape. Then there would be no need for either.

Really, it was just a matter of waiting and seeing. But to have any future chances, he needed to keep his options open, even if that created some risk in the now.

* * *

_ To his surprise, it is Ienzo who helps him to his room. Since their introduction, they had never had the opportunity to talk, although Xehanort is not sure if he would have wanted to anyway. The boy seems intelligent considering how he is not yet even twenty, but still lacks the wisdom that comes with experience._

_ The boy also lacks muscle, and seems to struggle just as much as Xehanort himself does as they make their way to his room. He would much have preferred Aeleus or Dilan to assist him, but both were busy with the clean-up. Only Ienzo could be spared, and he knows he should not be complaining. After all, any help is better than none, and the boy is uncharacteristically quiet as the door is pushed open with gasping breaths. Obviously physical exertion is not a strong point, but he chooses not to point this out as he is helped to his bed._

_ "Thank you," he says, more out of habit than anything else. He waits for Ienzo to leave, but then remembers that Ienzo has never done this before. He does not know that Xehanort prefers to be left alone after the experiments, and he himself cannot be quite callous enough to tell the boy to leave. Perhaps if he is quiet, Ienzo will get the message._

_ But instead, Ienzo looks around. He follows the boy's gaze and asks, "What are you looking for?"_

_ "Well," Ienzo says, glancing back at him. "You are hurt."_

_ "Not really."_

_ "But… during that last experiment-"_

_ He waves off Ienzo's flustered explanation. He does not want to be reminded of his weakness; considering how long they had been studying the subject, he should already be used to it. He does not like being reminded that he had cried out, even if any grown man would have been completely broken by the end._

_ But he is no ordinary man, and he resents the comparison. Even when it is of his own making. "The pain is not physical. There is nothing that medicine can do." _There is nothing that you can do_, is clearly implied, but either Ienzo is just not listening to the undertone or he is simply being stubborn because the boy sits down in his chair. The youngest apprentice does not sit properly, but backwards so that the pale chin rests on the top edge of the seat, arms wrapped loosely around the back._

_ "So it is true?" Ienzo asks. "That Master Ansem is studying your heart… trying to give you back your lost memories?"_

_ "And where did you hear that?"_

_ "Braig. Before he tried to shove me out a window." Ienzo looks more than a little irked by this memory, and Xehanort cannot help but smile. He highly doubts that Braig would have done that, but he can be rather unbearable at times. More than once Xehanort had desired nothing more than to jump out the window of his own volition to get away from the man. "What does he seek to accomplish?"_

_ "I think he is just trying to annoy you," Xehanort replies dryly, but Ienzo shakes his head._

_ "No, I mean… Master Ansem. Doesn't he see that the experiments are hurting you?"_

_ "I volunteered for them," Xehanort shrugs. "I knew what I was getting myself into. Besides, as you said, this is my chance to discover the mysteries of my own past. I do not resent the opportunity to learn about who I am. It is… difficult to not have a past."_

_ Ienzo looks slightly apologetic at this, sensing that he has brought up a sensitive topic, but Xehanort gives him a reassuring smile. "As for Master Ansem… he fears for this world."_

_ "Whatever for?" Ienzo is truly confused by this. "It has been peaceful for as long as anyone can remember. What could he possibly be worried about?"_

_ "He fears the darkness of people's hearts."_

_ Ienzo sits up a little straighter so that his head no longer rests on the chair, "But then why is he experimenting on you?"_

_ "Instead of?"_

_ "I don't know. Criminals, perhaps. If he is worried about the darkness in people, shouldn't he be studying… people who _have_ darkness in their hearts?"_

_ "Everyone has darkness within them, no matter how we try to deny it. You, me, the other apprentices… even Master Ansem. It is something that rests within us all."_

_ "But we control it. _You_ control it. If he truly wishes for the knowledge, you seem to be… well, you do not seem to be the right test subject."_

_ "But I am the only one who volunteered. We must have our ethical standards," he points out. Ienzo falls silent at this, and Xehanort cannot help but wonder. Is the boy right? It is not that he is complaining—he does not mind the experiments, especially considering how much he could gain from them. But the idea that he might be going through them with no real conclusion in the end because he is an inadequate subject… that demands questioning._

_ "What would you do?" he suddenly asks, and the boy jerks. He does not know why Ienzo is so surprised that he is speaking to him, but the boy looks quite taken aback by the question._

_ "Me?" he asks, "I… I do not know. Perhaps I would try to find someone else to volunteer. Someone who has a history of criminal behavior."_

_ "And if no one would volunteer?" He is truly curious. He wants to see how Ienzo will answer because in a way… does he already know what the answer is? What he would be willing to do? How far he would be willing to go? Because it is not really enough; _he_ is not enough, for all his assets. Because as Ienzo has pointed out, he has been able to control his darker intentions. Even now, he asks purely as a theoretical; he would never think of experimenting on anyone against their will, of course. What would Master Ansem say?_

_ What would he say, indeed. He'd had no problem with experimenting on Xehanort, despite knowing the potential damage of the tests. But then, he had volunteered… quite forcefully too. No, he cannot fault the man for that. Besides, how much would anyone give up to save their home? To save their _world_?_

_ To what point is anyone willing to go for their wishes?_

_ He remembers one of Dilan and Even's arguments. Dilan had been questioning if the long-held belief that the heart is an instrument of light was really true… after all, isn't it the heart's deepest desires the reason why people throw morals away? And if that is the case, could it not be argued that the heart is not made of light… but darkness? The darkness that lurks in the form of hidden desires, desires that most people kept locked away by sheer will power and force. If the heart was made of light, those desires would not exist. Or they would not be able to hurt anyone._

_ "Would you experiment on an unwilling man?" he asks, realizing that Ienzo has not spoken for quite some time._

_ "I…" Ienzo looks like he quite regrets ever starting this conversation, but he is unable to come up with an excuse to change the subject. "I'm not sure."_

_ A coward's answer. But he does not tell Ienzo that. The boy is young, after all, and has time to learn. And there is no time like the present to begin, and so he says, "Some people would be willing to go through anything to get what they want. Some people would be willing to _do_ anything to get what they want."_

_ Ienzo looks over at him, half-disturbed and half-calm. It is a peculiar combination, but the boy pulls it off. "But are you one of them?"_

_ He shrugs. "Who knows?" he replies lightly. "Who knows what anyone would do given the right circumstances? People are not predictable, even to themselves. How far a person can go… sometimes it is just a matter of timing that determines that."_

_ "Maybe."_

_ But Ienzo doesn't look quite as convinced, and this prompts Xehanort to ask, "What of you, Ienzo? What is it that you want? Why did you come here?"_

_ "Well… it is… is an honor to-"_

_ "No, none of that," he cuts off firmly. "Of course you are intelligent. That is why Master Ansem made you one of his apprentices, regardless of your age. But what motivated you to shine? Why did you work so hard through school and in your studies? Surely it was not for the honor of serving under the king. You had your own reasons, did you not, to excel in your studies instead of looking elsewhere for satisfaction?"_

_ Ienzo frowns, fidgeting slightly in his seat. He looks so young that way, even though he is already… seventeen or eighteen, Xehanort cannot recall right now. He will have to check the records later; after all, it seems that this boy will be of more interest than he had previously suspected. "I like learning, I guess. I want to understand people, how they work. Of course, there are practical applications to that but… I just want to know things."_

_ "And how far would you go to know things?"_

_ "You said it yourself," Ienzo shoots back with more spirit than he's shown since the conversation began to teeter on the edge of ethics. "It is impossible to know that sort of thing until the time is right."_

_ He laughs. Truly, this boy is interesting. Not on the same level as him, certainly not, but his enthusiasm and quick tongue is nevertheless something to behold. "True enough. But it is still a question to wonder about, isn't it?"_

_ Before Ienzo can answer, there is a sharp knock on the door. Then Master Ansem is opening the door and looking at them, a confused frown on his face. The king knows as well as he that he does not like company as he recovers from the tests, and is therefore surprised to find Ienzo still there._

_ "I hope you are not bothering Xehanort," he says, and Ienzo immediately jumps up. As for him, he just laughs._

_ "Of course not. We were having an interesting conversation."_

_ At this, Master Ansem smiles. "That is good. But Ienzo, you must let Xehanort rest. Besides, you are needed by the others for the clean-up as well."_

_ They both watch as Ienzo nods at this and quickly leaves, and then Master Ansem turns back to him. "You two seem to be getting along quite nicely."_

_ "He has brought up some interesting points," Xehanort replies, although he decides not to say exactly what those points are. The timing does not quite seem right; he doubts his master will be quite so receptive right now. Perhaps he should have Ienzo there, when he does bring it up. In fact, he should inform the other apprentices of it. Maybe. There might be no reason to go that far; if he does not need to bring others into it, then he won't._

_ "I am glad you are opening up to others, Xehanort," Master Ansem says with a sincere smile._

_ His own smile, however, is decidedly less so._

* * *

He didn't know how many days it had been since he last woke up, or if it was even days. It might have been hours, or minutes, or even _seconds_… or in a world where logic and sanity took precedence over delusional optimism, weeks. _Months_. Okay, so maybe that last one was getting cynical but wasn't the key to a healthy life to have low expectations?

Because that totally didn't sound depressive.

Not that he really had time to obsess about that because as he looked around, he immediately realized two things. The first was that Zexion was nowhere to be seen. Second, and more worrisome, was the fact that he had no clue where he was. He knew immediately that it wasn't the room where he had woken up last, although it definitely had the same… feeling. That feeling of darkness, although instead of pressing against him as it had in the fake Destiny Islands, it seemed to be stored in the very walls themselves.

He couldn't help but shiver. It wasn't a very good sensation—creepy, more like—and he felt really lost. What was he supposed to do now? He had no idea what was out there, or where Zexion was. It was also hard to concentrate with all the darkness around him, even though it wasn't nearly as suffocating as before. How had Zexion described this world again? That it was something An—no, _Xehanort_ had made?

Speaking of Xehanort, he still didn't get what was going on there. And he'd never really had the chance to think about it. The time he'd spent trapped in his own heart didn't really seem like any time at all, although at least he had been aware of what was going on. Aware, and yet so bleary that he hadn't really been able to do anything about it. But it was better than the last time, when it just felt like he'd been taking a long nap. No, something had changed and maybe it was just because he knew what was going on. And more importantly, he knew he should try to take advantage of that fact except he didn't really know how to.

_You should figure that out on your own,_ a part of him said. After all, he still did not know how much he could trust Zexion. Zexion, the Nobody. A person with no heart. He was still having problems digesting that information. Did that mean the other guy—Lexaeus, wasn't it?—was also a Nobody?

He had felt sick when the man had died. It didn't matter that he had known there was something… off about the man (_the cloak of darkness, you're another 'nobody'_), and that he hadn't actually caused that death. But then, by killing himself, hadn't Lexaeus just made the choice for him? What would he have done, if he'd had to decide? Would he have been able to kill the man, even if Lexaeus had been the one who attacked him first?

Riku wasn't sure what the answer to that was, and sometimes he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know.

But for all his worries, he couldn't spend the rest of his life sitting there and worrying. So slowly, almost too slowly, he got to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he felt a little better as he started to take a few steps towards… what he assumed was the door, although it wasn't like any door he had ever seen before. More like a portal to the gaping jaws or hell or something cheerful like that, but he forced himself towards it anyway. He needed to find Zexion because right now, no matter how much he disliked the Nobody, he was also the only person who knew what was going on. As much as he didn't want to rely on someone who claimed to have no conscience—plus the entire trying to murder him thing—he knew he couldn't do this on his own. Not when it was taking him so much time just to figure out where he was or what was going in; if Zexion hadn't been there the first time, he might never have figured out that he had been taken over by the Heartless. Well, not immediately anyway. In fact, he had a feeling that it might have been too _late_ by the time he did manage it, and that was not exactly an encouraging thought.

So yeah, finding Zexion was probably a really good idea.

Despite that, he couldn't help but hesitate for a split-second at the door (portal to hell). Because really it seemed like… darkness in some odd, solid form, and he had no idea what would happen if he went through that. Maybe An—Xehanort had anticipated that he would eventually gain control again, and had placed that thing there as some sort of barrier.

Then again, if Zexion was to be at all trusted, then shouldn't he technically be relying on the Nobody to keep the Heartless from suspecting that at all? Besides… well, he supposed there wasn't any point in just sitting around here either. That wouldn't exactly accomplish anything, and so finally he just gritted his teeth and pushed his way through.

Riku had never walked through a waterfall—well, not unless you counted that dinky stream of water near that dilapidated walkway back on the islands—but he thought that this felt a lot like that, what with the pounding cold that nearly knocked him onto his knees. It was as if the bone-shattering pressure was trying to keep him from moving forward _or_ backwards, trying to keep him in his place, but just when he thought he might have to give in—he fell through.

For longer than he would ever admit, he lay on the ground and gasped for breath like a fish out of water. Although in his defense, he at least took the time to look at where he had landed, and the sight was not a reassuring one.

At first glance, it was a long corridor. But like the room he'd just left, there was that same stink of darkness. At least it wasn't as strong, but that hardly made him feel much better as he staggered to his feet. The corridor was also quite long, but there was only one door at the end. He immediately figured it had to be Zexion's room, seeing how there was no other door but the one he had just come through.

So he started forward, trying not to jump like a startled rabbit at every odd sound. And there was a _lot_ of that, as he not only felt the Heartless's presence but could hear the creatures skittering about. He had no idea where the sound was coming from because there weren't any in the corridors, and he assumed they weren't in the walls since nothing was popping out to skewer him. But it seemed that the further he walked, the louder the noise got, and so by the time he managed to push through the second door he felt very much akin to a nervous wreck.

He probably looked it too, which might have explained the odd look on Zexion's face as he once again fell through an entrance. Either that or the Nobody just wasn't used to people tumbling into his room like clumsy morons, but all Zexion did was blink once and say, "Riku. How did you get past the Heartless?"

"Guh," was the most intelligent thing he could come up with what was left of his brain cells. After that, he could only stare blankly at the Nobody, noticing that not only did the bastard not offer him a hand up, but he had not even moved from his cross-legged position on the bed. Finally, more to break the silence then because he wanted to answer, he said, "Er. There were no Heartless when I went out there."

This finally managed to get Zexion's interest. "Really? Well. That is an interesting development."

"I'm going to take a wild shot and guess from that totally uninformative response that there were supposed to be some outside."

"Indeed." But that was all he said, and it disturbed him to see that Zexion did not look at all offended by the sarcasm. And considering how the guy seemed to be… proud and arrogant, he had fully expected to be ripped apart. But then, maybe he'd just been surrounded by hyperactive people for so long that he'd just developed a weird sense of proper reaction times. After all, Sora—_a tinge of regret_—would have tried to chew his head off at any perceived insult, while Kairi would just shove his head under the water. And as for Wakka, Tidus, and Selphie, they'd—

He felt sick. Would any of them ever forgive him?

"Shall we get started?" Zexion asked suddenly, cutting through his self-depression. If the guy had noticed that there was something wrong with him, the Nobody obviously didn't plan on offering any condolences.

But then, maybe Zexion was just as eager as him to get this over with as he was, and so after a moment's hesitation he nodded quickly before looking for a place to sit. It was the first time he had really looked at the room, seeing how he had been rather distracted the last time, and immediately he noticed was how bare it was. There was nothing on the walls, which unlike the dark hall were a more sterile white. Then there was the bed, which Zexion now occupied, and a desk on which a large book lay. But no chair.

Well, that totally wasn't weird. Or awkward.

Zexion followed his look, but when he turned to look at the guy the Nobody did not offer any opinions. So he finally sighed and just sat down on the floor because there was no way he was going to share the bed with Zexion, and he didn't want to be stared at as he moved the book to sit on the table. Plus he didn't think Zexion would appreciate it, and he had some incentive to keep the guy happy.

"Okay. So now what?" he asked, trying his best not to fidget at Zexion's unblinking gaze. It felt like he was being dissected or something, and considering how much the guy seemed to know about him… maybe not too far off.

"You will have to defeat him, of course."

There was a silence, during which he struggled not to say something along the lines of 'no shit'. It took a while to succeed, but the fact that he _did_ totally deserved a pat on the back.

"Okay," he repeated slowly, trying not to jump up and strangle Zexion for being so damn… _frustrating_. Which was totally not a good sign, seeing how they had barely exchanged five sentences and already he was having slightly homicidal thoughts. "But how am I supposed to do that?"

"It is your body. It is _your_ heart."

Again, he waited for further explanation—rather patiently, he might add—but clearly Zexion had no intention of saying anything else so he blurted out, "_And_?"

"What more do you need to know?" Zexion replied, sounding quite annoyed. Riku threw up his hands in response.

"How about something that, you know, can actually _help_? You haven't said anything that I don't already know!"

"Do you truly?" Zexion asked, looking at him as if he was delusional. "If you understood that, you would not have been so confused when I told you to remember who you were. More importantly, you would not have been defeated. The fact that the Heartless has been able to take over you so easily is because you lost track of your own being. You lost yourself to the light, and so of course it was easy for the darkness-"

"I _lost_ because you were trying to kill me!" he cut off angrily, jumping to his feet. "Don't think I forgot that! If you hadn't tried to kill me, none of this would have happened!"

The accusations carried as much weight as they did last time, which was to say not fucking very much. But he didn't care; he just felt so… _pissed_. How could Zexion carry on as if he played no role in this mess? Maybe if he'd… shown some _guilt_ or something like that… but no, instead the Nobody just continued to watch him with that carefully blank look and this time Riku _refused_ to back down from it. Except then, by doing that, he could see the words written in the calm gaze, the words that he knew Zexion _could_ say but had decided not to because they both knew them already.

_If you hadn't been so weak…._

"If it makes you feel better," Zexion finally said dryly, "if it will compel you to act, then by all means continue to blame me. I am incapable of caring anyway. But if I may point out, I do believe that it will be infinitely more productive for you to stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something about your current predicament, rather than wasting time trying to come up with an appropriate scapegoat to your present situation."

For a moment, he could only glare helplessly at the guy. He felt so… frustrated, so _angry_, but none of that was enough to cover up the guilt. Because he might not want to admit it, but what Zexion had said… it was like he had taken Riku's thoughts and given voice to them, and hearing them out loud was just so different from having them play in his brain. Where he could, with some effort, ignore them.

And worst of all? Blaming Zexion didn't make him feel better. It just made him feel like a spoiled brat, trying to blame someone else for what he should have prevented in the first place. He'd spent so long blaming other people but really the person he hated the most was himself, and it was not easy to admit that sort of thing. That didn't mean he should be blaming it on Zexion though, even though the guy was being a self-righteous pain in the ass.

"I'm…" he started, and nearly faltered as Zexion just continued to give him that apathetic look. How did the guy do it? There was no anger, no frustration or animosity or even _disappointment_ in those dark blue eyes, nothing that could be associated with rebuke. Instead… there was just nothing. "Sorry about that."

"As I said," Zexion said, "I do not care."

That nearly set him off again, but as if expecting that Zexion quickly pushed forward before he could say something he knew he would regret, "Besides, we have other things to discuss. Obviously you do not understand your current position as well as you should."

"What else is there to get? I'm a prisoner in my own body." And totally, totally not bitter about that.

"Do you understand why?" Zexion asked. "Do you understand why you lost to the Heartless in the first place?"

That could have meant anything, and he bit back the urge to ask for specifics. Was Zexion referring to when he had first let Ansem—Xehanort, _Xehanort_, how hard was it to remember?—in that first time, or when he had seen him in the basement levels of Castle Oblivion? Or when the Heartless had taken advantage of his fear of the light _and_ the dark to take him over again? Or maybe he was talking about when Riku first opened the door to darkness and unleashed destruction on his world and countless others? Where was he supposed to start from? At which point was he to begin?

He never wanted any of that to happen again. He _couldn't_ let it happen again, and it made him… scared. Was that it? "I…" he paused, but then decided there was no running form it any longer. "I guess I was… scared."

"You guessed right," Zexion said, his voice mild yet biting all the same. "Why? Why are you so scared of the darkness? It is a part of you. You need to use it to your advantage."

_Look at you, shrinking away from the light… You're not Riku anymore! You're just a pawn of the darkness!_

The accusations echoed in his mind all too clearly, and he glared at the Nobody. "I seem to remember someone telling me that I was just a pawn of the darkness," he reminded flatly. _So you opened the door to darkness and destroyed the Islands. You did that! And now you belong to the darkness. Look at what you are!_

Zexion looked decidedly irritated at that reminder, but still not at all guilty. "Stay on track, Riku. I was trying to kill you then. Of course that is what I would have said. But the situation has changed, and I think that therefore gives my present words more weight than the previous ones."

But he couldn't just forget what Zexion had said. Because wasn't the Nobody right? He couldn't exactly deny any of that. And that was why he had gotten scared. If he let it happen once, who was to say it wouldn't happen again? Besides, the darkness was… creepy. And having so much of it in him even before the Heartless had taken up residence in his body… that disturbed him more than he had ever been able to admit. By admitting it, he would have to accept it as true, and he didn't know if he was ready for that yet.

Except… he would have to. He knew Zexion was right. He needed to use the darkness to get out of this situation. He had to utilize every tool he had, especially to fight against someone as powerful as Xehanort. He had seen first-hand what the Heartless was capable of, and hadn't he told himself he would do anything he could to prevent that? To make up for what he had done? To _redeem_ himself? And if that is what it took, accepting the darkness, then….

Unconsciously he started to raise a hand, trying to summon the power he knew was within him but had always been so _terrified_ of, and he would never admit it but it was to his relief when Zexion grabbed his wrist before he could summon so much as a flicker.

"Are you truly that stupid?!" the Nobody snarled, causing him to stutter something completely incomprehensible in response. How the hell had the guy gotten over so fast?!

"I… I thought…."

"Whatever you thought, it was wrong. Try to use your power now and all you will accomplish is to bring him down on our heads, if it does not end up backfiring first and completely consuming you!"

He glared, trying to tug his hand away from the grip that was starting to seriously hurt. But Zexion was either stronger than he looked or at least more determined, and after a brief tug-a-war he gave up and demanded, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Zexion sighed, muttering to himself about fools before addressing Riku again. "Do you even know how to use the powers of darkness?"

"… no," he admitted. "But-"

"it is not something for you to mess around with!" Zexion cut off sharply before he could point out that he had _already_ been using it in Castle Oblivion. And the Nobody gave him no opportunity to speak as he continued, "Have you learned nothing from your experiences? Is losing yourself once not enough of a lesson that you must continue to go through it over and over again?"

"You said I had to do something! So that's what I was doing!" he shot back, trying to tug his arm back again. It failed.

"Yes! But that does not mean right _now_. Do you not listen to anything I say? You _cannot_ win now! Challenging him is a fool's errand when you do not know how to control your powers. The darkness is more likely to rip you apart before you even manage to catch his attention."

"I can control it. I did it before," he replied defensively.

"Yes, but with _his_ help. Do you really think you can do it again now, especially in your current state? Without him noticing? And more than that, you are an idiot to think that all you have to do is open yourself to the darkness and it will submit to you, especially when you are so weak and foolish that you still have no idea who you are!"

"I know who I am!" He was tired of the riddles, tired of the questions that Zexion kept asking him which he never seemed to be able to answer correctly. "Why do you keep saying that? _I know who I am_!"

Zexion looked more than a little exasperated as he said, albeit more calmly than before, "Do you really? Because from what I see, you are still scared of the darkness."

"Of course I'm scared of the darkness! Who the hell in their right mind _wouldn't_ be?!"

The Nobody looked like he had an hour's worth of an answer to that, but he didn't want to hear it and so Riku continued angrily, "Besides, I thought you were the one who wanted me to act! Isn't that what you've been saying?"

"I am starting to believe you only hear what you want to hear," Zexion hissed, tightening his grip painfully. "Do you not realize you are at a severe disadvantage? If you try to challenge him now, unprepared as you are, he could destroy you completely."

"Then why hasn't he already?!" Riku demanded, feeling more frustrated than he could explain. "You keep saying that he can crush me, but if it's that easy why hasn't he?!"

"Do not be ridiculous! He has no reason to, and enough reasons not to! Even unprepared and weak as you are-" Riku couldn't help but snarl slightly at this, but Zexion ignored it to continue harshly, "-you still possess enough powers to reckon with. He can destroy you, for sure, but not without some damage to himself. Do you understand? Neither of you is strong enough to win without potentially long-term damage, but if you _should_, especially in your present state, you will _die_. The only thing that has kept him from killing you already is the fact that he does not know there are periods you can take control, periods you can use to strengthen your heart against him and keep him from ever taking over again. But if he should realize that you have this chance, he may choose to risk the dangers to himself in order to keep you from ever getting stronger. And that is a battle you cannot hope to win at this point."

It made sense more than he wanted it to, and after a long moment of glaring at the Nobody—was it just him or was the guy paler than usual?—he finally sighed in surrender and dropped his hand. This time Zexion let him, straightening as Riku immediately tried to rub some circulation back into his wrist as he looked everywhere except the person now standing next to him.

"Why do you tell me these things?" he suddenly asked without really thinking. He looked up at the Nobody. "What about you?"

Zexion dropped his gaze back down to him, and he looked slightly puzzled. "What about me?"

Riku almost let it go. Maybe he should have. He knew Zexion would have let him, seeing how the Nobody had a point. What about the guy? He had no emotions, no cares, no nothing. And if Nobodies were really the embodiment of nothing, then what did anything matter? Besides, he wasn't even sure what he was asking the Nobody in the first place, and judging from the expression on Zexion's face, the Nobody didn't really know either.

It would be easy to drop the subject. Zexion seemed willing enough—well, really he seemed apathetic as usual—but there was something about the situation that made him think that maybe, just maybe… he shouldn't drop it. Not now anyway.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked. "Ansem… I mean, Xehanort," he hastily corrected when Zexion opened his mouth to interrupt, "he wants Kingdom Hearts, doesn't he? Isn't that something you would want too?"

"What makes you think that?"

"You said you didn't have a heart. If Kingdom Hearts was completed… it would give you that, right? And if that's the case-"

"Things are never as simple as they appear to be."

Well that was a load of nothing, and they both knew that. If Zexion was not concerned by emotions, then shouldn't he just say what he meant instead of hiding it behind some mysterious half-baked explanations? "And what does that mean?" he prodded.

Zexion sighed, shaking his head, "It is nothing, Riku. Do not worry about it. You should concentrate-"

Except at this point he was tired of getting brushed off, and so he got to his feet to face the Nobody. He didn't get in his face because that would just be childish, but he wanted to be able to look the guy in the eye without having to look up from the ground. "_Why_?"

Because there were two sides to every story, and he needed to know what this one was before he could continue on.

"He… disturbs me," Zexion finally said with no little reluctance. "From everything I know of him, the direction he is taking will only lead him to his own destruction. And I have no desire to be dragged down with him."

"But he could win if you helped him," he pointed out.

"It is not a matter of winning, Riku. He could win—he may still win, even with the forces that act against him—but he will still lose in the end. He will create his own ruin. He has done that before, and I have no doubt that history will repeat itself in his case."

Riku frowned. He wasn't sure he got it still, but… he didn't really think any further explanation would help him either.

"So," Zexion said with an arched eyebrow, "have I sufficiently satisfied your curiosity so that we may get started?"

There was no need for an answer.

* * *

End Notes:

Thought I should quickly address Riku's thought process on Lexaeus's death.

One of the things that struck me as being peculiar is the way Sora could blithely go about destroying the Nobodies in CoM. Of course, they were the enemy, but if you think about it there is a vast difference between killing a Heartless and a person. And considering how Sora did not know that he was fighting Nobodies until KH2, it just seemed a little odd.

I actually came to that thought from reading Riku's half of the CoM manga. Because there, Riku seemed a little… callous in the way he destroyed Zexion. I realize I am biased, but considering how you have a sixteen year old kid with an overdeveloped guilt complex… would he really have done that? Because in the game, he never had the chance. Vexen left, Lexaeus killed himself, and Zexion escaped. Would he have killed them if he'd had the choice, especially considering how he didn't know they were Nobodies? I think he knew that there was something _different_ about them, but… did he really know that they weren't human? I don't really think so, and therefore I cannot be completely sure he would have just taken them all out the way he did in the manga.

Anyway, as for why it took me so long to put up this chapter… I haven't actually been writing much these days. Well, actually this whole summer. A part of the reason for that is typical summer laziness, but a lot of it was that I've been hating the fourth chapter a lot. So I've finally decided to just cut out a scene entirely and go from there, but it also means this is the last of my pre-written chapters.

Upcoming Chapter Preview:

_ "You look upset," Zexion suddenly interrupted his guilt-fest in that 'I am so not interested' tone that he excelled at. And that Riku totally _hated_._

_ "Wow, you think?" he snarled back, focusing his attention back on the Nobody. Not that it would make a difference though, seeing how nothing was going to change._

_ "I am guessing from your unsubtle use of sarcasm that you wish me to ask you why you are angry so that you can rant for a few minutes on how unfair your life is, during which nothing will get accomplished except to make you even more childish than you already are," Zexion replied coldly._


	4. Survival Instinct

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: These chapters are getting ridiculously long. I've been moving scenes left and right in a vain attempt to get them controllable. For this chapter, I had to cut out the end of the last scene and move it to the next chapter, which hopefully works although this chapter is still quite long.

**IV: Survival Instinct**

From the beginning, Riku had not emerged very often. Zexion, of course, was not at all surprised by this, having known of the many weaknesses the boy possessed. The most important of which was that Riku was still completely terrified of who he was, and as a result suppressed himself to the point that he could only take advantage of Xehanort's weakest moments. And considering how quickly Xehanort was gaining power with each new day, such weaknesses were likely to become increasingly rare.

But the boy had managed it nevertheless, and his appearances often made Zexion wonder why Xehanort failed to realize what was happening to his stolen body. Since he could not ask, he could only theorize. After all, even if the Heartless did know about it, Xehanort would never bring it up with him; the Heartless would not want him knowing that his control was anything less than absolute. Still, he was starting to suspect that the boy's bouts of consciousness were not the only times Xehanort lost full control, which was interesting.

Interesting, but useless without verification. That inability rankled the part of him that would forever remain a scientist, but it was not important enough for him to bring up the matter when it was more important that Xehanort know nothing of Riku… and more significantly, that Zexion _knew_ and was indeed interacting with the idiot—which while a rather crude descriptor was essentially how he thought of the boy because really, Riku was just plain _hopeless_.

For as it turned out, identifying Riku's problem had been the only simple part of this endeavor. Solving the problem was proving to be near impossible, since the boy simply refused to move on. Instead, he let the misplaced guilt of past crimes and his continued fear of the darkness weigh him down. The boy's grip on his own identity was so tenuous that Zexion was frankly surprised that the boy had not already been subsumed by Xehanort entirely.

In other words, Riku's progress thus far left much to be desired, especially after all the time that had passed. He had tried to explain over and over again what needed to be done, but it was not working. Most of their failure was due to Riku's continued reluctance to view the darkness as anything but pure evil, but admittedly some part was due to his own shortcomings as an instructor.

Zexion did not like to admit it, but pride had to be discarded in times such as these. Ienzo had never been a good teacher, having always been the student. A student who learned for _himself_, and had little time to worry about the inadequacies of others. Ienzo's Nobody was little different, having always avoided the teaching duties that Xemnas doled out when a new member was found. But he could no longer afford to make excuses; no, getting Riku to understand how to manipulate the darkness was the _only_ task he had now. In fact, other than that there was virtually nothing else for him to do unless entertaining the Heartless counted. And while Xehanort could monologue for hours on end, there was still plenty of time between those moments during which he had to occupy himself.

Too much time, in fact, to the point that it seemed he was spending most of his time enduring the horrors of _boredom_. And while Ienzo had always preferred the company of books to others, Zexion did not have either. His Lexicon was a poor substitute for the library that Ansem the Wise had built and lovingly filled with texts on what had seemed like every subject known to mankind, and as a result he simply had too much time to think. And the more he thought, the more he wondered if both he and Riku were simply doomed.

It sometimes seemed that worse than boredom, he was plagued by constant frustration. Unable to escape, unable to truly act, unable to get through to the only person that could destroy the Heartless… even the fact that Riku was finally beginning to appear more often was not reassuring. After all, it was the boy's body and he should have been strong enough to occupy it permanently, not give it up to some outside force. And that exasperating fact was even more irritating than the boredom, to the point that he sometimes just wanted to hand Riku over to the Heartless and be done with it.

Luckily, rationality always trumped the fleeting frustration, although he still could not help but continue to be… irritated with the boy. Riku had so much power, power enough to destroy Xehanort entirely if only he would _use_ it. Riku could easily have ended this from day one, but instead he was such a self-doubting coward that nothing was getting done, and Zexion was forced to sit here trying to keep a situation from getting too far out of control.

Perhaps it was because he had too much time to think that he was starting to realize the downsides of Riku's increasingly frequent appearances. As he still did not understand what happened to the Heartless during those times that Riku emerged, he could only assume that the Heartless was being contained within the shared heart much in the same way that Riku usually was. He did not know how aware Xehanort was of these changes, and while it seemed that the Heartless did not fully realize it, it created the deadly possibility that Riku's slowly (agonizingly so) increasing control would catch Xehanort's attention before the boy was ready to face the man.

But even if that was the case, what could he do about it? He did not know how to prevent it from happening, only that he would have to when the time came. If he was anywhere near the Heartless when it happened. What if he was not there, and Riku accidentally pushed through when Xehanort was not off-guard? The Heartless would then realize that Riku's power was strong enough that there was no choice but to deal with it, and as Riku currently was, the boy was simply not strong enough to match Xehanort.

There was always the convenient possibility that they would just destroy each other, but he doubted Riku was strong enough to cause lasting damage. And with the various Heartless still lurking outside the door—and not to mention the dark world itself—only a more permanent disability would be enough to give him the opportunity to escape.

It made him wonder why he did not help the Heartless; certainly he would not have to worry about this sort of thing if he did. Not to mention the fact that Kingdom Hearts was what he wanted—the _only_ thing he wanted, at this point. So why did he continue to resist what he knew to be true, that it would be in his best interest to help Xehanort? Surely there were no lingering fears from what had happened when they were both human, when they still had their hearts and were not incomplete beings. He may blame the man, but he could not even muster up any true resentment.

But it was not about that, not really. Whether or not he blamed the Heartless did not change the fact that… he knew. What had happened in Radiant Garden would only happen again. Even if Xehanort gave him a heart—which he doubted—or let him live longer than was necessary—even more unlikely—the Heartless would only find another way to destroy them both all over again. Of course he had no logical reason to base his conclusions on, but was it not a well-honed biological instinct to know when to **run**, even if it failed to make perfect sense at the time? He did not need to have the teeth on his throat to know he was at risk.

In fact, as a Nobody, his survival instincts were even sharper than they ever could have been when so clouded by emotional baggage.

Except that it seemed that no matter how clearly he saw, he still had no idea what course of action to take.

* * *

"So how long has it been this time?"

That was more or less his standard greeting now, although the way he asked had begun to change over time. Case in point, the words this time came out more as a growl, especially since he already knew the answer he was about to get. Seeing how it was the same as the one he _always_ got.

"I do not know. What possibly makes you think I will know any more than you do? Or do you simply have nothing better to do than ask questions you know will not get answered?" Zexion snapped back. Riku couldn't help but feel a little smug; for a guy who claimed to have no emotions, the Nobody was definitely getting more short-tempered every time they had this conversation. Which just so happened to be every time they saw each other.

But maybe that was why he asked, even though he had stopped expecting an answer the third time around. Even though he knew that Zexion probably just didn't know (he figured the Nobody would have answered him just to shut him up), it at least got a reaction out of the guy—even if it was a bad one. Besides, it had become part of the pattern, one that was quite depressing if he stopped to think about it.

Whether it was the greeting or the content of their conversation or even the exit—usually jumpstarted by Zexion suddenly invading his personal space to sniff at him like some strange gray dog before abruptly pronouncing that Xehanort was returning—it was _always_ the same. Sometimes, it felt like the Nobody's increasingly shorter patience was the only thing that did change, which definitely _wasn't_ enough. It wasn't that he couldn't deal with a pattern, but the fact that they weren't getting _anywhere_… he didn't know how much longer he could standit. And it wasn't just Zexion; suddenly waking up, not knowing how long it had been or what had happened in the meantime, not knowing how long he had before he would lose control, not knowing how much _longer_ any of this was going to last because the only person who did know was refusing to tell him _what he needed to know_.

Well, that wasn't quite true because Zexion technically did answer his questions. Unfortunately, the Nobody seemed to believe that his one-answer-fits-all approach was somehow _reasonable_, as his answers to all of Riku's questions had been the same exact thing. It was like Zexion was operating under the delusion that by repeating the same thing over and over again, Riku would suddenly understand what the hell he was saying. Riku at least had made an effort to ask for clarification, or to ask things from a different angle, or to even _word_ his questions a little differently but Zexion was either too set in his ways or he had lost his creativity along with his emotions.

What Zexion didn't seem to get though, was that he wasn't asking to be irritating. Well, not in this case at least. But he really didn't get it. The fact that Zexion wouldn't—or perhaps couldn't—explain in terms he could understand was making him wonder if they would ever succeed in getting rid of the Heartless, and that wasn't exactly a positive mindset to fall in.

He had tried to figure things out on his own, taking from what Zexion said. Know yourself. Right. He knew who he was. Riku. He was Riku, who had grown up on Destiny Islands with his best friends Sora and Kairi. Kairi, who had shown him that there were other worlds, instilling in him that desperate longing to leave the Islands. The Islands, which he had eventually destroyed because he had let in the darkness, and when he realized what he had done he knew he would do anything to save Kairi—who wouldn't have needed saving if he hadn't fucked things up in the first place—even betray Sora. Sora, who had tried to stop him as he nearly sent them both to their ends by being weak, nearly sent scores of worlds to the darkness by letting Xehanort in and unleashing the Heartless upon innocent worlds and people.

Yeah. He knew exactly who Riku was, and it wasn't a pretty picture.

Sometimes, when he managed to get past the crushing guilt that threatened to drag him down, he wondered if what Zexion was saying was that he needed to forgive himself. But that didn't seem quite right. Knowing the Nobody, self-forgiveness was not very high on the list of priorities, although maybe it was because of his lack of emotions that Zexion didn't recognize the effect self-loathing could have on a person.

As much as he would have liked to believe that though, he doubted it. Even though the guy was completely clinical about it, Zexion just seemed to understand _people_, and included in that category was Riku. Sometimes, Riku thought Zexion knew him better than he himself did, a thought that was not only disturbing but downright depressing if he stopped to think about it.

"You look upset," Zexion suddenly interrupted his guilt-fest in that 'I am so not interested' tone that he excelled at. And that Riku totally _hated_.

"Wow, you think?" he snarled back, focusing his attention back on the Nobody. Not that it would make a difference though, seeing how nothing was going to change.

"I am guessing from your unsubtle use of sarcasm that you wish me to ask why you are angry so that you can rant for a few minutes on how unfair your life is, during which nothing will get accomplished except to make you even more childish than you already are," Zexion replied coldly. Riku almost wanted to tackle him to the ground, but resisted out of sheer strength of will because like it or not, beating the shit out of your only ally was probably not the best way to go about things. Even if he did still wonder if Zexion really was on his side, especially when the Nobody was in one of his… moods. "I do not suppose we can skip that intervening step?"

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny," he hissed. "I'll skip that step if _you_ skip the step where you give me the same shit that you always do, and finally tell me for once what I'm supposed to _do_."

Zexion seemed to twitch. "I have already told you what to do. Every single time you have asked me, clever wording choices aside, I have made it perfectly clear why you are not in control and what you are supposed to do about it. You are weak because you do not know who you are. You let yourself go too quickly, and therefore make it easy for the Heartless to take you over. If you truly wish to defeat the Heartless-"

"-then I have to open myself up to the darkness. I get it," he interrupted impatiently, noticing again that while Zexion claimed not to have emotions, the guy was definitely starting to develop a spasm of the face whenever he said that. "But it doesn't make any sense. Opening myself to the darkness is what caused this mess in the first place! Why the hell are you telling me to do that, when it's just going to let Xehanort take over me even faster?!" This was not the first time he had pointed that out, but the Nobody continued to act like the darkness was the solution instead of the problem. It was something Riku just couldn't get, especially when the person standing before him was a prime example of what happened when you lost your heart to the darkness. It was not exactly reassuring, but Zexion didn't seem to get the contradiction he posed simply by _existing_.

And it didn't help that every time Zexion told him to open himself to the darkness, he wondered if the Nobody was really trying to help him. What if this was just some elaborate trick? Sure, he didn't think Zexion would have bothered with him for so long—although how long it had been, he didn't actually _know_—but he still couldn't help but… worry about it. Even though Zexion had seemed rather… sincere when he had explained why he preferred not to work with the Heartless, Riku knew from experience that the guy was a great liar.

_But he never lied to you_, a hateful voice reminded him. _Even in that false Destiny Islands, he didn't lie. He was just saying what you didn't want to hear._

He flinched, and then hated himself for that moment of weakness.

Zexion didn't even blink, even though he was sure the guy had seen that, instead saying calmly, "Not if you hold him back, like I told you before."

… maybe not so calmly. There was a definite edge to the Nobody's words now.

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that?" he asked, also not so calmly. He didn't have _time_ for this shit again.

"By not being scared of yourself. You made a mistake before, Riku, one with far-reaching consequences that will last beyond your lifetime."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Zexion ignored him. "But you are not the first, and you will not be the last. People make mistakes. There is darkness in most hearts. It is human nature. But letting yourself die is not going to make up for any of those mistakes."

What… what the fuck?! "I don't want to die! Who said I wanted to die?" he sputtered.

"What else are you doing then?" Zexion asked. "Inaction will get you killed just as well as any weapon. Inaction makes you weak and exposed. But if you successfully open yourself to the darkness, if you no longer fear it, then you will have strength over yourself, more than enough to defeat the Heartless and break free of your own trap."

_Do you want to escape the Islands? Your tiny existence? Do you want to be __**free**__, Riku?_

No. No, not again. "That's what Xehanort told me when I first let him in," he said quietly. _Then let the darkness in, and you will finally become something more_.

The Nobody sighed, "This is different. Riku, you must understand this. The Heartless tricked you into letting him into your heart. But that is not what I am telling you to do. Darkness is neither good nor bad; it simply _is_. By letting it in, you are not letting someone else in to control you. Rather, you are… accepting who you are. As if you are-" Zexion hesitated, as if looking for the right words, but not finding them as he said a little too quickly, "-making yourself whole again."

Riku looked at him, surprised, and before he knew he was saying he said, "You're talking about yourself."

Zexion frowned, looking more annoyed with himself than Riku. "No, I am not."

It was not exactly convincing; something about Zexion's tone made him think that the denial was half-hearted (Ha. Ha.) at best as he countered, "Yes. Yes, you _are_. I mean, isn't that what a Nobody is? Someone who doesn't have a heart? Someone who isn't _whole_?"

"And what if it is?" Zexion asked, tone somewhere between sharp and calm, something that shouldn't have worked but the Nobody managed it like he always managed contradictions. "It never mattered to you before."

"Who said it didn't matter?" he said. It wasn't quite a lie because he had wondered, and the reason why he had never bothered asking was because he didn't think Zexion would have answered anyway. Either that or he was afraid that Zexion would just say the same thing he always did, and that would probably be more than enough to push him over the edge.

Because really, it just didn't seem fair that Zexion knew so much about him when he knew so little about the Nobody. He knew that… it didn't actually matter or anything, except that it did. He didn't know how, he didn't know _why_, but it just did, even if he wasn't capable of giving a reason for it now. But he knew he had one. _Really_.

Besides, at this point there wasn't really any harm in asking. And at least it was something different, even though he just knew that the next words out of the Nobody's mouth was going to be that it didn't matter, that this was something he didn't need to know.

For the longest time, Zexion said nothing. Instead the guy just watched him, as if trying to see something in him that Riku knew couldn't be there. It was different from the way the Nobody usually looked at him, calculating and gauging how best to manipulate him. Instead, it was like Zexion was trying to look into his _heart_, and it made him want to change the subject or maybe _will_ Xehanort into taking him over right then and there because he still couldn't accept what he had done, but then Zexion spoke.

"I was not referring to myself, Riku. But since you seem vaguely interested, I will try to explain. You are correct in that we are not whole. But it is more than that. Not having a heart… we feel nothing."

Riku opened his mouth to point out that he already knew that, but one sharp glare from Zexion and he shut it again as the Nobody continued, "Even when events happen that should make us feel, we are incapable of it. Which in the end means that the only thing we do feel is the very wrongness of our existence. A person close you could die, a person you still vaguely remember loving, but you will feel nothing. You know you should feel something, but you do not. And so you try to remember what it—what sorrow feels like, but it had been so long since you truly felt it that you cannot even pretend. Because it is nothing compared to what it should have been, and so instead of feeling the parody of sadness for the person you have lost, you feel it only for yourself. Which is perhaps the way it should be. For we are only Nobodies, and Nobodies do not have the right to feel things that others should. And yet we have no choice but to try, knowing that we will fail because there is no one else to bear that burden of caring for us when we disappear."

"You aren't disappearing," he said. He felt cold, like he had been talking to a person for so long but had never known who he _was_. He had never been able to wrap his head around the idea of a Nobody, and while he still couldn't… he was starting to wonder if he already knew too much.

"Not yet. It will happen, eventually. Everyone dies, and so shall I. And who would mourn that? Only another Nobody, if any still exist at that point." From anyone else, it would have sounded like the Nobody was looking for sympathy. But the way Zexion said it, it was more like… he was stating simple fact, which made it all the more disturbing.

Plus he couldn't help but wonder if maybe the reason why he was so bothered was because that was at least a better reason than his had been.

"So that's why you want Kingdom Hearts," he said quietly, watching to see if maybe he could catch anything in those empty blue eyes. Nothing. "Even though you will make so many people suffer because of it?"

Zexion just continued to watch him with no emotion in those dark blue eyes, and he had to resist the urge to fidget. He knew that the Nobody could point out what he himself already knew, that he was seriously one to talk after everything _he_ had done. But again, Zexion surprised him by pointing out simply, "We feel nothing for their suffering, Riku. How can we? And if we cannot feel for them, what do their lives matter to us?"

"But that's crazy," he replied. Because while his reasons hadn't been as good, and stupidity really wasn't an excuse… he hadn't actually realized what his actions were going to cause. It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was _true_. He wasn't proud of it, but at least he hadn't been so coldly aware that his actions were killing people. Not until it was too late, at least.

Zexion just shrugged. "I never said it was not, did I? I am only trying to explain to you what you will be facing, if you manage to get through this first. Creatures who are as incomplete as you are now, except unlike you they are willing to do whatever it takes to do something about it. And unlike them, _you_ actually have the ability to act. So why do you not? Why do you continue to hesitate?"

"Because I _can't_," he said. He hated how the Nobody was able to make him sound so stupid, like his concerns were nothing. "I can't just do what you tell me to do."

"You can," Zexion replied simply, the words calm and each like a stake through the heart. "And you will have to. But right now, you just refuse to do what has to be done."

"That isn't fair," Riku shot back, although he didn't even know what the hell he was trying to protest. "I'm not you. Just because you were willing to lose yourself doesn't mean I am. You can't force your situation on me, not when they're nothing alike. I'm not a Nobody." Which he knew was completely beside the point, but he couldn't really think of another reason.

Zexion smiled. There was no humor in it, but there was definitely something mocking about both it and the words that followed.

"Not yet, Riku. Not _yet_. But if you continue to persist down this path, Xehanort will most certainly make you a nobody indeed. And then, there will be no one to mourn your passing.

"Because no one, not even a Nobody, will care enough for your passing if you cannot find the strength within yourself to do what you should have already done and defeat the Heartless within you once and for all."

* * *

_"What have you done with yourself?"_

_ He looks over to see the king standing at the door, the man's expression torn between apprehension and exasperation. He cannot move his arms to acknowledge the man's presence, and so he instead inclines his head politely—and immediately regrets it as the pain threatens to split his head into two. "Master Ansem."_

_ Beside him, the other apprentices are doing their best to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Dilan looks away as Evan's expression goes perfectly blank, and Aeleus holds himself very still. Braig opens his mouth and begins to speak, but sense gets the better of him and instead he watches as Ienzo tries to make himself as small as possible. Considering how small he already is, that is not much of an accomplishment. But all of this _his_ master ignores; the question may have been meant for all of them but the man only has eyes for one, and Ansem says after a long moment—the accusation plain, "You could have died."_

_ Xehanort shrugs. Slowly this time, but there is still pain. It is nothing that he cannot bear, so rather than let weakness affect him he keeps his face impassive as he replies, "It was but a simple accident."_

_ "Accident or not, the end results remain the same," Ansem says, the reprimand clear. His eyes narrow; he does not like that one bit, but knows better than to say anything now. Perhaps later, when the man is no longer made unreasonable by worry and guilt. "What were you trying to accomplish?"_

_ "We were exploring a theory," he replies. Ansem looks to the others for confirmation, and gets for his trouble a few half-hearted mutters, if anything at all. A part of him wants to resent them for being so capricious, but he never expected anything else. He is the only person he can rely on; even Master Ansem has proven to be unreliable, particularly in who he chooses to allow into their little enterprise._

_ It is funny that it was Ienzo's induction that gave him this revelation, as of all the apprentices he likes the boy the most. Or rather, dislikes him the least. But that does not make the boy an equal, nor the others, although lately their presence has been admittedly more helpful than not. Especially since his master is proving to be so stubborn in going deeper into the experiments, no matter the potential benefits they might have._

_ "Your… _theory_," Ansem practically snarls the word, "could have gotten you all killed you. You are lucky that you did not die." This time his eyes sweep across the room, and the other five look appropriately shamed. But regardless of what they feel now, he knows that when the time is right, when the conditions are optimal, all guilt will be forgotten. Because for scientists—_true_ scientists—nothing will come between them and the knowledge they seek. Even Braig, for all his faults, understands this key concept._

_ In fact, the only one who does not is the man who he calls master._

_ Still, he knows better than to rely on those cowards to speak up for their basic right to research, and is therefore pleasantly surprised when Ienzo speaks up, the words soft but not shy. No, never that. It had not taken him long to realize that Ienzo was no mere boy, regardless of his appearance. "But Master Ansem, if we had the proper equipment, such dangers would be greatly minimized. Then the experiments could proceed and we could make _real_ progress in stopping the darkness from taking over our home."_

_ A long silence follows this proclamation, and it takes everyone a moment to realize what has been said. But in those few words, Ienzo manages to address the issues of safety while appealing to Ansem's deepest desires, and it takes a while to understand what the boy is suggesting._

_ "No," Ansem says with a frown. But it is not an angry one; no, it is contemplative, and Xehanort resists the urge to smile. "The darkness is not something to handle lightly. It is far too dangerous."_

_ "But isn't that why you started doing the experiments in the first place? What was the point of beginning if there is no follow-through? What has Xehanort been suffering for if we do not accomplish anything? You set out to save this world, and the potential knowledge from these experiments surely makes it worth the risks which themselves can be greatly minimized," Ienzo argues back. And now Xehanort cannot help but smile; slowly, but surely, the group will turn to him. Perhaps not now, when they are so starry-eyed with the man known as Ansem the Wise, but eventually they will come to him as each and everyone of them realized that the path to true knowledge lies with the first apprentice, and not that scared old man._

_ "No," Ansem repeats, but the protest is weaker._

_ "Why not?" Even asks. Xehanort cannot tell if the blond is speaking because he believes they have a chance to persuade Ansem, or if it just his compulsive need to be the best. Not that he ever will be, but there is no reason to tell him that yet. Even, like a shark sensing blood in the water, has heard the waver in the king's voice and immediately jumps on it. "It is as Ienzo said. The more we know, the better the chance we will have to protect our world! If we are willing to take the risks and the proper precautions, we may gain far more than any other before us! We may discover a way to conquer the darkness once and for all."_

_ "And how could we do that without the proper facilities?" Ienzo picks up from where Even left off. "As it is right now, we are just… wandering. We are not truly accomplishing anything. But with a lab, with the tools that we need, we could go farther without putting ourselves at risk."_

_ There is a soft murmuring from the other three. They have not spoken directly against the king, but their interest is caught. The possibility is there. It is so close that he does not even need to speak, just sit back and watch as the others do his work. He knows that they will accomplish what he cannot because Ansem cannot deny what they _all _want most._

_ Knowledge and power… who can resist those things? No matter the reason, no matter the cause… they are both so necessary to accomplishing the most terrible and most noble deeds alike._

_ "What you are asking for can destroy us all," Ansem points out, but Braig—a little surprising, but not unwelcome—says._

_ "But then, it could save us all."_

_ And Ansem the Wise, as benevolent ruler… isn't that what he wants most? Is that not what he was willing to risk his foremost apprentice for, the man he had come to look at as his protégé… he would have given up all of that, and more, to save his world. To protect it from something that no other man could dream to fight against, but they could prove all those skeptics wrong. They could _save_ Radiant Garden, and preserve it for all of eternity._

_ Those are the thoughts that run through the king's head, and Xehanort knows that they have won._

_ "I will think on it," Ansem finally says._

_ But they all know it has already been decided._

_ Still, this is their cue to go, and as one the apprentices begin to shuffle out of the room. Xehanort, whose wounds have been forgotten but no longer matter anyway, also stands to follow them._

_ He is not sure what to think when Ansem does not try to stop him, and he is almost halfway out the door when his master moves. He turns quickly, waiting for… he knows not. Perhaps a sign that Ansem still believes, a sign that his master understands. But instead, those once-proud eyes flicker to him for a moment before they close, as if mourning a loss, and Ansem says, "Ienzo. A moment."_

_ The boy slows. He is one of the last to leave, not being as quick as the others to flee the scene, and he looks worried at being directly addressed by their master. Momentarily frozen, he looks not to Aeleus, who has also paused, but to Xehanort for… what?_

_ He does not know why the boy turns to him, but it is enough that he has. He looks to see that Ansem is watching before nodding once, and like before it sends pain through his spine but it is worth it as the boy turns away quickly and heads back to the infirmary._

_ Xehanort quickly turns to Aeleus. It looks like the apprentices intends to wait for his friend, and that is something he can do without. "Go ahead. I will wait for him."_

_ He states the offer politely, but Aeleus looks reluctant to go. Xehanort is impatient; the longer this takes, the less he might hear and therefore the less he will know._

_ "You will take care of him?" Aeleus asks._

_ He smiles. It is an odd little smile; he does not really know what Aeleus is trying to imply in that statement, and decides that he will figure it out later. Now is not the time. "We both know that he can take care of himself."_

_ This is apparently enough. With a last level look, Aeleus finally walks away and Xehanort returns to the matter at hand._

_ "Is this truly what you want?" Ansem's voice is quiet, but it carries well in the calmness of the air and the silence of the castle._

_ Xehanort can already see the confusion on Ienzo's face as he asks, "Sir?"_

_ "What you want. Not someone else." And Xehanort knows that he is speaking of him, and an inexplicable, incomprehensible surge of anger runs through him. He fights it back, waiting for Ienzo's answer. He wonders if the boy will break, or prove himself more worthy._

_ "Of… of course it is," the boy stammers. "I mean… this was your idea to begin with, wasn't it?"_

_ "And if I said I regretted it?" Ansem asks. "If I said that I wished I had never started it? That I had never even had the idea? What would you say then, Ienzo?"_

_ "I…" Ienzo sounds confused, unsure why he is being asked such things. "I suppose I would have to ask why."_

_ "Hm. An excellent point, I suppose." The king sounds so tired, as if he has been carrying a burden for too long and is now desperate to hand it to another. "What if I was to tell you that I am afraid of what it is doing to Xehanort?"_

_ "You are worried for him?" Ienzo asks. "But there is nothing wrong with-"_

_ "Sometimes, I rather think that… I am worried _by_ him."_

_ His fist clenches. He wonders if the king knows he's there. Wonders if the man cares. Wonders when exactly the man _stopped_ caring._

_ He does not wait for an answer, one that will no doubt be placating and empty. He does not wish to hear anymore. Instead, not caring what noise he makes, he takes off down the hall, cradling his still bleeding arm and not caring of the red-drop trail he leaves behind as he flees._

* * *

_Why?_

As Riku disappeared through the door that he himself could never pass through, it was the only thing he could think. He had most certainly never meant to tell the boy nearly that much about himself, or the nature of Nobodies. For one thing, if they somehow did manage to get out of this alive, the possibility that such information could be used against the Organization—and not to mention _himself_—was great. After all, their alliance now would no doubt dissolve once the common threat was eliminated, which meant he had to keep the boy at arm's length.

But instead he had answered, revealing nothing Riku had needed to know. He bit his lip, wondering how his words could be used against him. In all likelihood, they could not; there was nothing particularly damning in them and doubtless the boy was too ignorant to know what to do with them anyway. But still it was more than he wanted Riku to know. So why had he spoken? Could it be taken as a sign that he had given up on this plan ever working?

Riku was getting nowhere. They both knew it. And the longer they took, the more time Xehanort had time to get stronger. If this went on any further, Riku would never have the chance to defeat the Heartless. Not once Xehanort had crushed the boy and made him only a memory of what could have been.

And what would become of him then?

It was not a thought one wanted to have, especially as Xehanort entered the room. Not having expecting it, especially so soon after Riku had left, he could not help but start as the Heartless practically sauntered into the room. And of course, Xehanort could not help but notice it and the man asked, "Is something the matter?"

The way he asked, it was almost like he cared. Zexion knew better than to fall for that though, and answered a little too sharply, "No."

Xehanort did not believe him, but he had not expected him to. "No? You seem…" the Heartless paused, trying to find the right word before settling on, "… surprised."

"And since when is that a sign that something is wrong?" he asked. Not too quickly; if he did, he would sound defensive. Right now he needed to remain as apathetic as possible. What was the problem anyway? He could not have been that unsettled from his conversation with Riku, could he? That would just be ridiculous. Yet why did he feel so jumpy, as if he was being threatened? Xehanort had not done anything noteworthy yet, and still he felt the urge to flee. Regardless of what had happened, he should not have been so affected.

The Heartless shrugged, "True enough. But you always show nothing when I come to visit you. That means something must have changed, for you to actually look…" a pause, but this time Xehanort smiled as he said rather mockingly, "surprised."

"That is difficult to believe," Zexion replied. "Seeing how I am incapable of feeling surprise, I doubt I would be expressing it either."

"But something has changed," Xehanort said with that same little smile. "You did not deny that."

"No, I do not," he agreed. It would do no harm to concede that point, especially when there was no way to deny it without being called out on that. "But what difference does it make?"

"It would have made quite a bit of difference before," Xehanort pointed out. "Becoming a Nobody has made you quite apathetic, I think."

And whose fault was that? Not that he would be foolish enough to say such things out loud, especially with the Heartless walking over to stand before him. Not wanting to be trapped where he was, he quickly got off the bed and moved towards the desk, his hand resting lightly on the wood surface as he looked at the wall. He did not have to turn to see that Xehanort had not followed him, instead watching his movement before asking, "Are you afraid of me?"

"You need emotions to be afraid," Zexion replied coolly, still not looking over at the Heartless. "I am simply wary of your intentions. But you already knew that."

"Certainly. But I still do not understand why. I have done nothing to harm you. In fact, I believe I have been quite courteous and attentive to your needs."

He snorted, wondering exactly how the Heartless could say such things. He did not recall Xehanort being quite so sardonic in the past, but that was beside the point. They both knew that the only thing he had ever required of the Heartless was the only thing he had yet to receive, and he sincerely doubted Xehanort was in any mood to be more accommodating. Still, perhaps he could gain something from this conversation; it would be a welcome change considering that as of late he seemed to be giving up more than he was receiving, whether it was in his dealings with Riku or Xehanort. "If you truly claim to be looking out for me, then you would not mind answering my question."

"And what question is that?"

His lips thinned as he turned to face the Heartless, arms crossed, "The fact that you are asking seems to me ample evidence that you have no intention of answering."

The odd little smile still graced Xehanort's face as the Heartless asked, his tone almost flippant, "What makes you so certain I will not respond?"

Zexion stared, oddly grateful for his inability to truly feel surprise because it kept his mind coherent enough to realize that Xehanort was coming for him again. He had no intention of letting that happen (ever again), so he moved, barely bothering with subtlety now. With every step he took, he had to be careful that he moved in a way so that his back would not end up against a wall, where he would then have no place to go. His mouth felt dry, and the expression on Xehanort's face resembled a stalking cat, and he did not like this feeling of being hunted.

"You might respond, but how would I know if you are telling the truth?" he asked, trying to keep some semblance of distance between them. But Xehanort was steadily getting closer, anticipating his paths and cutting off potential routes.

Xehanort's expression did not change. "Just because you do not like the answer does not mean that I am lying."

"But it does not mean that you are telling me the whole truth either. You have been hiding something since the very beginning, and before you ask me how I know," he practically snarled, cutting Xehanort off before the man could make some mocking remark about an overdeveloped sense of paranoia, "I know _you_. And that is enough."

And now he knew he was getting somewhere. The small smile had slipped away, and while it was not quite a frown, it certainly was not as smug as it had been before. This, Zexion knew, was both a good and a bad thing. It meant that while he was getting closer to discovering exactly what Xehanort wanted him for, he had also caught the Heartless's attention. Before, their conversation had been more a momentary amusement. Now it was something more. Xehanort had always been the kind of person who wanted his epic plans to be hidden until the final unrevealing, having realized that the more people knew, the greater the risk that someone would seek to prevent him from carrying them out.

Which was exactly what Ansem had tried to do, and failed so spectacularly at.

"Perhaps I have not been spending enough time with you," Xehanort said finally. "You seem to have had a little too much time to think on matters that do not concern you."

"How can you say they do not concern me when you keep me here?" he shot back. "You must have a reason for it. You yourself have admitted that I can do nothing that you cannot already do on your own. And indeed, since we have come here I have done nothing. I cannot even leave this room. I do not know what you expect me to do under such conditions. Unless, perhaps, you are simply trying to retain a piece of your broken past?"

"You are walking a thin line, Ienzo," Xehanort growled. But that was nothing he did already know, and he plunged ahead mercilessly. Logic and reason argued against this course of action, but something was overpowering it now. Something that went far beyond that, and had kept humanity alive for far longer than morals and emotions and those other wholly unnecessary feelings that nevertheless made one feel so empty when doing without.

"And even now, you continue to call me by a dead man's name," he pointed out coldly. "Why would you do that, unless you are incapable of letting go of the past? Even when you have gone so far as to steal another man's name to escape… but then, even that name ties you to the past, does it not?"

"That is enough!" The Heartless was angry now, striding towards him at a speed he could not gracefully avoid. But he no longer had any intention of being subtle about anything, knowing as he had from the very start of this conversation that there was no longer any other choice except the one he had now, and even that was not much of a choice.

Fight or flight. It was deplorable, being reduced to such base instincts, but now it was all about the survival. He could not rely on Riku any longer. The boy was too fractured, unable to do what had to be done, and so it now came down to this. _Fight or flight_.

Of course, he knew that there was no option even in that choice; he could not do one without succeeding in the other. Xehanort's control over the darkness, as imperfect as it was, was comparable to the most perfect control over the nothingness. Light and dark were after all the two strongest forces in this world. They could create or destroy, while the nothingness could do neither. But the fact that the control was still imperfect offered him a chance, one that he should have taken before but had avoided because he was not a fighter. He worked with words and minds, and knew he would be at a disadvantage in a fight such as this. But the time for subtle manipulation had long ago passed, and if he did not act now he would never have another chance. As illogical as it seemed, it was really the only reasonable decision he had left.

He felt nothing. This was a given. Zexion had no delusions of this fact; he was a Nobody, and had lived with that fact for nine years. And what drove him now was not the memory of fear, but something more basic than emotions—real or remembered—something that had been retained throughout all of human history. That basic, most primal of instincts—the need to remove the threat that could ultimately terminate his very existence.

So before Xehanort could get too close, before he could lose before he even began, he reached into the nothingness and summoned his weapon. It hovered between them, both sets of eyes fixated on the book as it seemed to float for one long moment before it fell into his other hand. His right hand quickly perched on the cover, ready to rip it open at the slightest provocation which he knew would come sooner than he would ever have wanted.

Xehanort stopped, looking at him with an almost quizzical expression as the Heartless asked, "What do you possibly hope to accomplish with this little display?"

"Keeping you away from me, for a start," he said, resisting the urge to back away. Was that also survival instinct, or simply the memory of fear eating away at his common sense?

"And you really think that fighting me will work?"

He glared. The Heartless was not taking him seriously. It was an insult, but one that might give him an advantage, especially if Xehanort underestimated him. "We are both creatures of our own abilities. I have powers as well."

Such false bravado would feed the pride. He knew that. Xehanort thought that the darkness was supreme, even against light. If Xehanort did not think he had a chance, then _perhaps_ he could catch the man off-guard to actually accomplish something. "You?" Xehanort was laughing at him, and it annoyed him that he could not even feel angry about it. But the lack of anger let him see things more clearly "You, Ienzo? If I recall correctly, you are nothing more than a boy who was overwhelmed by something he should never have opened himself to."

"Ienzo is dead, and I have not been a child for longer than _you_ care to remember," Zexion replied, his voice tight. "You cannot keep me here against my will."

"I seem to have done quite a good job at it so far. Despite your absurd posturing right now, I still see no reason to think that I cannot continue to do so." Xehanort gave him a condescending smile, "Come, be reasonable. If you stop now, we can talk things through. But I can make no similar promises if we should continue down this path."

He shook his head, "Your promises are empty. I learned that once already, and I will not go through it again."

"You won't have a _choice_."

He whirled around, but it was too little, too late. The voice came from in front of him but he sensed the darkness as soon as it was released, knew the form it would take and where it would be. Yet for all that knowledge he had no way to counteract it as he found himself face to face—although a generous statement, that, considering how the beast towered over him more than any other ever had—with the inky black demon once again. There was no time to react, no time to do anything at all, just like the _first_ time. He would have found it disheartening, but worse than that was the fact he could have _forgotten_ its existence, even at a time like this. He should never have been so careless, although even if he had anticipated this move as he should have… he knew, as much as he did not want to, that it would not have made a difference.

Automatically, his hands moved to open the Lexicon even as logic said it would not help. And as if to back up his assertions, cold but at least _human_-esque hands clamped onto his, and Xehanort was behind him, much too close. Against his will, his weapon faded before it can be of any use—_but isn't that the story of his life?_—and he knew something was wrong, more wrong than ever before.

"You cannot access your little toy anymore," Xehanort said without having to be asked, his tone almost pleasant as a hand ran through his hair as if he was a pet or something less. What kind of reaction the Heartless expected out of that, Zexion did not know, but he continued to stare straight ahead into the darkness as he kept his breathing steady. "Not unless you think your powers are greater than the darkness, which I doubt. But if you wish, you can try it now. I won't stop you."

"Because there would be no point," he replied quietly. Pressed against the two creatures as he was now, he did not know whether to fight or panic. Neither seemed a pleasing option, although internally the animal instinct snarled to at least do _something_ of use. But at this point, what was there except to stay as still as possible, as if hoping that Xehanort would forget that he was there at all?

No, the best he could really hope for was to get out of this as unscathed as possible. But he knew that this would still be a very painful lesson. What had he possibly been thinking? He was not nearly powerful enough to put up a fight; he _knew_ that, had known that ever since he had found himself in this place. And the more time that had gone by, the stronger Xehanort had become, so what in the name of Kingdom Hearts did he think he would accomplish with this little stunt, short-lived as it may be? It was not like him to panic, even as he realized that the strands of his frail plans were unraveling before his eyes, all tied to a boy who could not even begin to realize the potential he possessed. But now he was in a position worse off than before, and with nothing to show for it.

He wanted to be scared, or perhaps even a little angry at his own ineptitude in handling this situation. But he felt nothing. Even though he could see his impending end coming for him, still he could not find it within himself to have the proper emotions that should have accompanied this disinclination to end.

The Guardian was dismissed, and Xehanort moved to stand before him. They looked at each other for a long moment, the small, cold smile on the Heartless's face anything but reassuring as he said, "Indeed. There _is _no point. But you knew that before, yet still you acted against me. That disturbs me, Ienzo."

He swallowed and said, "And why would it, exactly? I made it perfectly clear my position on your charade. Should I have the opportunity, I will act. I never claimed otherwise."

"Indeed." And that was all that was said before he was grabbed by the shoulders and slammed forwards into the wall so hard that his head spun. He gasped, a weak little sound, as he shut his eyes tightly. Even in this position his mind worked to figure out a way to get away; he needed to get through this pain, needed to be coherent, but then what? Words seemed to form and die before they could string themselves into logical thought, so it was only when a hand began to tug at the front of his coat that some semblance of lucidity returned.

He opened his eyes slowly, turning to look at the Heartless. It was hard to focus, but he forced himself as an ice cold hand touched the newly exposed skin of his upper chest. He recoiled back, but that only brought him closer to his tormenter. "What… what are you doing?"

Xehanort looked at him, expression cold, "Getting the point across. You do not have a choice in this, Ienzo. You never did. And if I have to resort to such crudities to get you to understand exactly how powerless you are, so be it." And now the silver chain that looped in the front of the coat was being undone, but he could not find the strength to keep it from happening.

His mouth was dry, and the realization seemed to cause his stomach to drop. He tried to speak but nothing came out, and he shook his head but immediately regretted it as his head swam. His inability elicited no sympathy from the Heartless as Xehanort again returned to drawing down the zipper, revealing far more skin than he was comfortable with. Perhaps more skin than anyone had ever seen before. He tried to push away at the man, only to be turned around and his back slammed up against the wall, the larger body pressing close and making it difficult to breathe.

Although it was quite likely that there were varying reasons for that.

"It would go easier for you if you did not fight," Xehanort said, the words harsh before turning falsely sympathetic. "After all, this is your first time, is it not?"

He felt cold. Empty. The pain made it hard to understand, but not nearly hard enough as he managed to gasp out, "No."

"No?" Xehanort sounded amused. "Who then? Aeleus? Even?" he leaned closer, the white of his teeth blinding against the dark tan of his skin as he continued, "Perhaps even my Nobody?"

"No." The word was a little stronger this time, but still too understated as he struggled for enough air. But it was a question, and he clung to it as if it was a lifeline. Perhaps if he could distract the Heartless, keep him from following _through_… perhaps he could avoid this. "You know Nobodies have no heart. We form no attachments, not even to each other, and we cannot have relationships that-"

"Ah, you and your words," Xehanort laughed, cutting him off and destroying his last shred of hope. "You would seek to distract me, even now?"

Perhaps he could continue deluding himself into thinking that things would ever be fine. "This can accomplish nothing."

He would not ask. He would not beg. It was not a matter of pride. He just knew that Xehanort would not care, and he did not want to give an more ammunition to the Heartless. Already he was going to lose more than he could afford. Or was it? Did it really matter? Would this matter? If he did not care, if he did not feel emotions, what difference could it make?

"Do you really believe that?" Xehanort asked, mirroring his thoughts. But the true question was whether he even had a choice.

No. He never had. Before he could do anything else, a hand covered his mouth. "No more words, Ienzo. You would be better off saving your breath for other things now, I do believe."

The smile that decorated the Heartless's face was mocking and cruel, and for a moment, for a single moment, he thought he could remember what terror felt like again.

* * *

End Notes:

There was a fairly long battle scene in the original. Unfortunately, my ability to write battle scenes is worse than my ability to understand nuclear physics, so in the end I cut it out entirely. I didn't really want to, but realized that lack of progress on this story was due entirely to my hatred of the scene. I'll probably put the original up somewhere, but anyway, that is what my original intention was. I honestly did not like the idea of cutting it because it feels almost cheap, but I figure that it is better than subjecting everyone to truly horrendous writing.

As for the timing of the chapters, this is the last of the pre-written chapters. I haven't worked on anything since posting the last one, unfortunately. In general, I just haven't been writing very much (guh). So I have no real idea when the next chapter will be up… hopefully within a decent amount of time, although sadly these days my definition of 'decent' when it comes to updating is getting obscenely longer (sob).

Upcoming Chapter Preview:

"—_and if you think that I'm just going to—what the hell is that?"_

_Zexion followed his gaze down to his own wrists. And maybe Riku might have just imagined it—he seemed to have a habit of that anyway—but the Nobody seemed to turn ghostly white as they both stared at the pale skin marred by bruises. It didn't last very long though, as Zexion abruptly straightened and took them out of view, arms disappearing into the long black sleeves as he said shortly, "It is nothing. Do not concern yourself with—"_

"_Do not concern yourself with-?" he repeated incredulously before yelling, "what the hell, Zexion?! Are you crazy?!" He grabbed at the Nobody, reaching over to pull the fabric back. Up close, with the original shock having worn off, the bruises were even uglier, mottled dark blue and black marring the skin. "What the fuck is going on?!"_


	5. Now and Then

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: The main problem with taking long breaks is getting the feel for the characters again, particularly Riku. Zexion seems to remain pretty constant throughout the stories, but depending on time and place, Riku can be difficult to handle. Not only is he emo, but his emo-ness varies in substance and amount. It is incredibly irritating, to say the least.

**V: Now and Then**

_ "_Is something the matter?_"_

_ So many words that he could say, and yet none. Through no will of his own, his fingers tighten around the sheets, but it is barely imperceptible. And in this moment, the Heartless is in no mood to be perceptive, especially as there is now no need for it._

_ "_You do not feel_,"_ _Xehanort says, running a hand through his hair. The hand reaches down, to stroke his face, but he does not flinch from the coldness of the touch. It is no different from his own, a characteristic shared by Heartless and Nobodies alike. "_Does this even affect you?_"_

_ Again, there is no answer either as he stares fixedly ahead. The ceiling is white, with none of the typical signs of age. No cracked paint or spider webs, but it is of no surprise in this unnatural world. Although world may be going a bit far—it is but the parody of a place, with no real beginning or end, and no true existence to speak of._

_ A laugh as Xehanort pulls away, although it does not drown out the soft hiss of pain that escapes unwillingly. It echoes, that sound, as if a reminder of what has just occurred._

_ As if a reminder is necessary._

_ "_Of course it does not_," Xehanort answers his own question, stretching as he stands. The movement is followed intently, although still nothing is said. Xehanort notices, of course, and for a moment he looks like he wants to comment on the silence. But instead he shakes his head, no doubt deciding it unnecessary, an empty smile on his face as he turns and walks away, leaving only the memory of hatred (_fear_) in his wake._

* * *

"What are you doing?"

There was no emotion in the question—there never was—but it was still positively venomous. Which obviously made no sense, considering how usually a lack of emotion meant a lack of malice, but Zexion managed it. He _always_ did. Riku had no idea how he managed it but he was not about to ask, especially with the Nobody trying to glare him into oblivion.

Anyways, Riku wasn't in a position to speak, judging from the gurgled sounds he kept making instead of actual words. Zexion did not look very impressed, pulling himself up slowly before asking, his tone sharp and almost angry if it had not sounded so _bored_, "Well?"

He tried again to say something coherent but failed miserably, instead finding himself kinda shrugging helplessly at the Nobody.

"You were staring."

"Huh?" he finally managed to get out. A keeper, that one.

If Zexion had the capacity to feel emotions, Riku knew that the guy would practically be spitting fire at him. But seeing how Zexion tended to obsess over the fact that he _wasn't_ human, and therefore did not have the requisite human characteristics (such as emotions, sympathy, kindness, decency, facial expressions, etc, etc), the guy just repeated slowly, as if talking to someone who was braindead, "You were staring."

Riku didn't reply. It wasn't really like there was anything he could say because he had been staring. But who wouldn't have, if they had come in all ready to get their head ripped off (as usual) and instead found the Nobody… sleeping.

Realistically, he knew that he shouldn't have been so shocked. While Zexion professed to not be human, he had never claimed to not be a living creature either. And as far as he knew, living creatures needed to sleep. It was basic biology, or something like that, and Zexion had never given him any reason to think the Nobody exempt.

And yet he had, in a way. Zexion never seemed… he seemed to have gone beyond simply not being 'human.' Riku didn't really know how to explain it, and anyway he had no one to explain it to but himself, but Zexion… maybe it was because he was so cold. Always so calm and collected, one step ahead yet still there. Sometimes Riku couldn't help but wonder why the guy wasn't already gone, why he was still here, and then he would remember that Zexion was depending on him. The idea of that was so strange and far-fetched that he never really seemed to believe it, which was probably why he still didn't trust the guy. Why would someone like Zexion need _him_? He didn't know how to take care of the people he loved, let alone the person he could barely _stand._

Zexion was waiting for an answer though, and he finally swallowed and said, "Um… yeah. I guess I was staring."

"Either you were or you were not. It is not exactly a difficult concept, even for you."

He resisted the urge to face-palm, and better yet resisted the urge to hit _Zexion_. Although somehow he had the feeling that even if he had given into his violent urges Zexion probably wouldn't care. He could already see it, the icy look-over that said what they both knew—that he was _useless_, or at least the closest thing to it, just because he did not understand what Zexion was trying to say with all his… _words_. The Nobody made it sound so easy, as if he was simply relinquishing control to An-Xehanort because he felt like having a vacation from his body, but that was the farthest thing from the truth. Every time he felt Xehanort taking control again, he fought back. But he might as well have been holding up a paper wall, his resistance barely making the Heartless pause as it pushed him into a darkness that terrified him because he didn't know if he would ever be getting out again. And when he did, he knew it was no thanks to him. It was Xehanort letting his defenses down, or Xehanort taking a nap that allowed him to have control over his own body for enough time to realize that it was all but hopeless, or something that _Xehanort_ did, and not himself.

But he couldn't think like that, couldn't let himself believe that he was completely incapable. If he did, he knew he would never break free, and the last thing he wanted was to be… gone. Zexion had certainly implied that many times already, that if Xehanort really wanted to, the Heartless could break him down until he was nothing. It would be easy, he knew, especially considering how he was now.

Which was what made this process so _frustrating_. How long had it been, since he had lost control to that monster in Castle Oblivion? How many meetings had he had with Zexion, how many insults and damning truths had he already absorbed? And yet nothing was happening, except that he was slowly becoming convinced that there was no _point_, and every time he wondered as he fell back into the darkness if he would be waking up again, or if he would cease to exist. Zexion seemed all fine and dandy to take as long as was needed, and Riku?

Riku just didn't know what else he could _do._

"Or perhaps it is," Zexion said dryly, shifting his position slightly although he did not move to stand. He instead continued to sit, although not in his favored cross-legged position. Instead he just sat at the edge of the bed, his hands folded in his lap as he looked Riku over. Unimpressed, as usual. "Is there anything you wish to ask me?"

"Why don't you tell me?" The answer is practically automatic, as is the coming rant, "Besides, it's not like there's any point. You're just going to say the same thing, that I need to find myself, that I need to stop fearing the darkness, that-"

"Amazing, really," Zexion interrupted. "That you can sprout all of that from memory, and yet are still unable to grasp its meaning."

"Well, maybe if you let me get a word in edgewise for a change, I'd be able to get somewhere."

"I fail entirely to see how letting you get a word in 'edgewise-'" Riku could practically hear the quote marks, "-will assist in anything. In fact, I believe I have let you get in quite a few words of your own. Usually along the lines of how you cannot, how you are doing your very best, how absolutely terrifying the darkness is-"

"It is!" he practically yelled it, pointing a finger at Zexion. "How many worlds have you destroyed with the darkness? How many have I? We've both seen what it does, so excuse me for not wanting to worship it! I think fearing it is the most sensible thing I have ever done, and if I had done it before then maybe none of this would have ever happened! Maybe, if I had thought, 'Oh look, giant cloud of darkness coming to swallow up my home, maybe I should go back inside,' instead of running into it like a fucking _moron_, I wouldn't be in this position!"

"Doubtful," the Nobody said. He hadn't even moved throughout the rant, although he looked decidedly unhappy. Although that might not really be saying much because Zexion always seemed unhappy, but today in particular, the frown seemed to be tighter than usual. As if the guy was holding back from saying something, except since when was Zexion the kind of person to _ever_ hold back? "There are plenty of fools who would be willing to take your place."

"And yours too?" he replied nastily.

"Is your habit of deflecting a recent one?" Zexion asked, shrugging sarcastically.

"Yeah, as if you are one to talk, Mr. I-don't-give-a-shit-about—holy _fuck_, what the hell is that?!"

It occurred to him belatedly that he was staring again. He wasn't even bothering to be subtle about it, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Zexion was giving him a weird look, and who could blame him right now? But… no, he could not have imagined that, there was no reason why he would, and before he knew what he was doing he was reaching over to grab Zexion's upper arm. The Nobody drew back, his mouth opening (probably to ask what the hell was wrong with Riku, and if he had ever heard of personal space, or some other completely unimportant detail like that) but it was Zexion's turn to trail off as Riku pulled the sleeve up.

And maybe Riku just imagined it, but the Nobody seemed to turn six shades paler until he was ghost white as they both stared at the skin now dark with heavy bruising. It was the first time he had seen the Nobody shocked—or close enough to it—and he realized that he had been one hundred percent correct in thinking that he probably didn't want to know what was behind Zexion's façade.

The surprise didn't last long though as Zexion wrenched his arm from Riku's grip, which had gone already gone slack from Riku's own shock. The damage disappeared into the long black sleeves, and Zexion looked up at him. "It is nothing to worry about. There is no need-"

"No… no _need_?" It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did the words came out as an indignant shriek. But that didn't last long as the words seemed to grow in strength as he yelled, "What… what the hell, Zexion?! Have you completely lost it? Are you seeing what I saw? Look!" And he was grabbing wildly at the Nobody's upper arm again, his… panic, it had to be panic because there was no other way to describe that sinking sensation in his gut as he pulled the fabric back. He almost wished he hadn't; up close, with the original shock having worn off, the bruises were even uglier, a mottled display of black and blue marring the usually pale skin. "What the fuck do you call this?!"

"Nothing," Zexion practically spat, displaying more anger than he usually did as he knocked Riku's arms away and quickly covered his wrists again. If the Nobody was panicking, he was hiding it well as he said in as calm a voice ever, "Now, if we could get back to the topic at-"

"Like hell we are going back to the usual shit. This is _serious_." Despite the shrillness of his tone, he felt so numb that he was practically as calm as Zexion was acting. What the hell had happened to the Nobody, and why couldn't the guy just _tell_ him? "We are _not_ going to ignore this. Or fine, _you_ can ignore this, but I'm sure as fuck not going to. So I'll ask you again—_what happened_?"

Zexion scowled at him, moving to cross his arms but seeming to think better of it. "I do not need to tell you anything. It is nothing that I cannot handle, and that is all you need to know."

"Nothing you can't handle? Are you shitting me? You call that-" he jabbed an angry finger at the Nobody's wrists, although even at the height of his frustration he was careful not to actually touch, "-nothing? If that's your idea of handling, you've got a pretty screwed up definition of what the hell coping is!"

"Riku," Zexion said, and while his voice was quiet the tone was dangerous. "You have no idea of what you speak. So drop it."

"_No_." So what if he had other things to worry about, or wasn't capable of helping? Something like this, and how could anyone expect him to not worry? He knew Zexion would tell him that was exactly the point, that he had his own things to worry about, but all the same… how could he just pretend that this wasn't happening? Even if… well, it wasn't that he didn't care what happened to Zexion, in a way that went beyond pragmatic considerations. As much as the Nobody tended to irritate him, which was more often than not deliberate, he knew that the guy was still his responsibility. If it wasn't for him, Zexion wouldn't have been in this situation.

Although that begged the question of what _would_ have happened to Zexion if Xehanort had not taken him over. If Riku had managed to win, to break through the grip of the illusion. What would have happened then? Zexion was an enemy, a Nobody, even though he looked, sounded, acted, _was_ a person. Could he and would he have taken him down, knowing what he did now?

He didn't know the answer to that, and wasn't sure he ever would. But instead he just shook his head, and said with as much calm as he could possibly muster, "I am not ignoring this."

"You do not have a choice."

"Like hell I don't!" he exploded. "Look, how many times do I have to say it? No. No way in _hell_."

Zexion was starting to get a familiar pinched expression, the one his mom got when a nasty headache was developing. One that was usually courtesy of Riku, and he had to resist the urge to laugh at that because it was just so _wrong_ that it was almost funny. In a morbid, disturbing sort of way anyway. But all his amusement went away as Zexion hissed, "You are acting like a child."

And if that was the best insult the guy could come up with, something was definitely going on. Although granted, the bruises were a pretty good indication of that already. "Well, maybe if you told me what the fuck is going on, I wouldn't-" He paused suddenly, staring at Zexion. Because… no, he couldn't really have been that blind, could he?

He already knew the answer to that. Yes. Of _course_ he could. Because he had been before, when he had let his stupid need to get off the Island cloud his judgment to the point of nearly destroying so many others. Or when he had deluded himself into believing that Sora was the enemy when all he needed to do was look in the mirror to see what evil looked like. And now, so wrapped up in his own self-pity that he could not manage to notice what was right in front of his eyes, he could only ask, "How long has this been going on?"

The quiet question got the most reaction out of the Nobody that he had ever seen as Zexion's expression flickered between confusion and shock but settled again on anger (or the semblance of it because Nobodies couldn't feel, but if that was the case then what was that on Zexion's face?) as he demanded, "What do you care?"

"If he's hurting you-"

"What?" Zexion asked, voice cold and biting. "What do you propose to do, Riku? What does this fact change that will help either of us in the long run? You are barely able to take care of yourself, and now you wish to burden yourself with another's welfare?"

"It's not like the two are mutually exclusive!"

"It is when you are so singularly incompetent!" Zexion snapped back. "You cannot handle this. You can barely handle your own situation. What you need to do is focus on getting your part done. Let me worry about myself."

He snorted, "Yeah, 'cause you're doing such a _great_ job."

"I doubt you could do any better, considering your own position." Zexion looked like he could go on, but instead seemed to think better of it as he sighed at Riku's rebellious look. So instead, the Nobody said more patiently—if _speaking slowly to get through to an idiot_ counted as 'patient'—"Look at it this way. The sooner you become strong enough to rid yourself of the Heartless, the sooner this will all be over. And then you will not have to worry about me ever again."

But that wasn't the point. That was _never_ the point, and for a guy who was usually so perceptive, it was amazing that Zexion always seemed to miss that key fact. It wasn't that he wanted to worry about Zexion; who the hell _would_, considering how the bastard was a mindfucking jerkface with flippy hair, but that wasn't even the point. Unlike the Nobody, he couldn't just turn off the humanity button when it was most convenient, and he tried to articulate this point, "Whatever. That doesn't change the fact that I can't just-"

"You _can_, Riku," Zexion said firmly, but the Nobody was not looking at him but past him. "If you are truly concerned, then understand what I am telling you. The darkness is yours. Use it. _Control_ it. Darkness is the antithesis of light, but that does not make it evil. There is no valid reason to fear it as you do, and doing so only makes you weak."

And even though Zexion was just dodging the topic again, returning it to one they would never be able to agree on, he didn't bother to correct him. Because suddenly, he knew why Zexion had seemed so strange when asleep. It wasn't the simple fact that he _was_ asleep, but the sheer contrast between the then and now. Because even now, with his wrists a mess of bruises and the pain they must be causing, and whatever else the Nobody was hiding right now about Xehanort, Zexion was still in control as he gave Riku that impassive stare.

But asleep, that calm had disappeared. There had been no control, no holding himself above mere mortals with their petty problems like pain and agony. Asleep, Zexion had showed more than he ever had in all of these meetings, and Riku now understood what he had been seeing.

Zexion was good at lying. Riku knew that, having been on the wrong end of it already. And the person sitting before him was lying right now, in a way that was so perfect that he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't seen what the truth really looked like. Because on the outside, Zexion was pretending that it did not hurt, that it did not matter, but on the inside… Riku had seen what was on that inside, the usually implacable face twisted into a grimace of pain, fear, and everything else that Riku experienced on a daily basis.

It wasn't as obvious as that, of course. Anyone else probably would have thought that Zexion was just having an unpleasant dream, but Riku knew that it was the farthest thing from the truth. And yet he could not bring himself to say it. He didn't know how to tell Zexion that he knew, that he _knew_ the Nobody was lying and was hurting more than he was letting on. The words formed but immediately died in his throat, and now Zexion was turning his attention back to other things, and Riku didn't know how to bring it up again without practically rubbing Zexion's face in it.

So instead he said nothing, and could only wonder how much his cowardice would cost the Nobody this time around.

* * *

_ "This was a mistake."_

_ It is no longer a struggle to keep that look of false concern on his face, and no longer a concern that such falseness comes so easily. But he has had a lot of practice, what with Ansem changing his mind so many times already. It had been like pulling teeth, getting him to agree to the experiments, although at least teeth had the decency to not be so capricious. One would think that Xehanort was doing this for himself, when in reality it was for the sake of this world that they did it. The sake of all worlds, really, considering how if Radiant Garden could be corrupted by the darkness, than so could any other._

_ That reality was so clear to him that he was literally shocked by the fact that Ansem did not seem to realize it for himself. For years, he had believed Ansem to be brilliant but with each and every finding that he had to wrestle from the man… no, _that_ was what true brilliance was. Not the tired learnings of an outdated archetype who no longer knew what he was looking at. Finally, they were coming close to what was _true_ knowledge, and Ansem was too weak to do anything but recoil in horror._

_ He knew—_knew—_that the research was the key, and he would be damned if he allowed Ansem to stop them when they were finally getting somewhere._

_ Although granted, this current situation was perhaps his own fault. He had been too hasty, pushing when he should have been reassuring the king that this was important. But the experiments had been going so well, perhaps to the point that he had become too bold. Not in the experimentations, mind, but in believing that his master would find them every bit as fascinating as he had. And maybe he would have, if it hadn't been for that little… accident._

_ "Dilan is strong, Master Ansem." And as soon as the empty words fall out, he knows that it is the wrong thing to say even without the way the king's eyes darken. But he cannot stop now, and tries to salvage something as he continues in as comforting a tone as he can manage, "He will recover swiftly, likely before the next round, and then-"_

_ He is cut off sharply by fists slamming onto the desk. Ansem rises, fury in his eyes, but no longer is Xehanort cowed by the man's anger. No, those days are done and forever gone, and he just manages to keep his composure as Ansem demands, "And what makes you think there will ever _be_ a next round?"_

_ The question is dangerous, and he wonders if it is a rhetorical one. Judging by his anger, Ansem seems dead set against letting the experiments continue. But then, it is not as if this is the first time he has tried to stop them. In the end, he has always backed down, whether it is because he also sees the undeniable benefit of the experiments, or if he is simply bowing to the pressure of not only his foremost apprentice but the other five as well. Each of them knew that they were on the verge of something brilliant. They would all want to continue, even Dilan who was now recovering in the hospital wing. He would know; after all, he had been with him and the other apprentices as they discussed their most recent findings, having gotten over the shock of what had happened. Even now he was sure the others were talking, although they were likely speculating on what Ansem would say to him._

_ Ansem seems to take his silence as insolence, and gets all the more infuriated. "Surely you cannot think that I will allow this… this _farce_ to continue? Especially after what just happened? You saw what happened; we cannot _control_ it, not even you, and next time… what am I saying? There will not _be_ a next time! I will not chance it, not after… what would have happened if Dilan had not gotten there in time? If the monster had been stronger? Dilan, Even… if there is a next time, there might not be enough people left to pick up the pieces! We would all be corpses, and then what will become of this world?!"_

_ His lip almost curls in an expression of disdain. Ah, of course. Ansem's precious world. It had taken some time for him to realize it, but despite Radiant Garden being the first place that he can remember, he has never truly considered it his home. The only thing that ever bound him to this world was Ansem's presence, and that bind is slowly coming undone._

_ Of course the old man has reason to be scared. Even he had felt a moment of terror, watching that prisoner jerk and writhe as darkness poured into him. The only upside of the process was that it was not messy, although one could never have told that from the screaming the man had done. It sounded as if his heart was being ripped out, and figuratively it had as darkness enveloped him._

_ And from the man, or perhaps more apt his shell, the creature of inky blackness had emerged. It had stood there, staring at them staring back with those empty yellow eyes as it swayed back and forth, like a drunken man, unfamiliar in its own body._

_ But then, abruptly realizing that it was free of its bonds, it had attacked. None of them had been prepared for it, so in shock of the thing that stood before them. No amount of research could have prepared them for it, having ventured so far into these uncharted waters, and they were still themselves staring as the creature lost interest in the novelty of its existence and acted on purely bestial instinct. Unfamiliar as it was with its new limbs, it controlled them quickly enough, scrabbling for the closest body it could reach._

_ That unfamiliarity, slight as it was, was what had saved Even from… whatever fate he would have faced. Only Dilan had managed to react in time, summoning his training spear and jumping before his fellow apprentice. But whether it was because the creature no longer knew how to stop or simply possessed no fear, it had kept going, slamming into Dilan and sending them flying. Even then, it had continued to claw at Dilan's chest. The spear kept it far enough away to keep it from succeeding, although the sharp claws had broken cloth and skin, and so intent was it on its prize that it did not notice Aeleus coming from behind until its head was falling from its body, beheaded in a single blow._

_ The creature had shuddered and fallen over, only to explode. The effect was more dramatic than practical, as it did not seem to harm either Dilan or Aeleus, but it was hard to tell as all eyes were fixated on the pink heart—not like those in the medical journals, but gaudy Valentine's Day cards—as it floated up into the sky before shattering in a rainbow of light. How such beauty could come from a monster was a concept Xehanort did not understand, but he had every intention of finding out._

_ Assuming he could persuade Ansem into allowing the experiments to continue, of course._

_ "And what would become of this world if we do not continue?"_

_ Ansem's face twists, and he looks like he is in such pain that Xehanort almost regrets his words. "Do not say that, Xehanort. We will find another way."_

_ "And if there is no other?" Xehanort asks. "How much time will we have, to search for new venues? You have always taught me to work with what I have, and is this not simply what I am doing? As… terrifying an experience as that was, the experiment was ultimately a success."_

_ "At what cost?" He had actually expected Ansem to lose his temper at that, but instead the question is tired and broken. Ansem does not have the strength to fight them anymore. Not when it is six against one, even if he is the king. He was never a dictator, only an arbiter, and against the will of his apprentices… he cannot say no for long. He never could. And with the import of these experiments to the safety of his world… sometimes Xehanort wonders why he fights against it all, when it is such a losing battle. Does it make him feel like a better person? Does it remind him of his conscience? "How many must die before you realize this is a fool's errand?"_

_ "How many will die if we do not continue?" he counters. And although he tries to prevent it, he cannot keep the bitterness from bleeding into his words. "What of that man? He is dead. Would you let his sacrifice be a waste?"_

_ "I did not want this to happen in the first place!" Ansem replies, his tone defensive and angry. But the old king is no longer the only one; an unfamiliar rage is building up in him, although his comes from an entirely different source._

_ "Perhaps not, but you still let it happen. You signed the paper, authorizing his use in the experiment." Not that it mattered. The bastard would have died anyway; his crimes were atrocious enough that even the pacifist government had no qualms for killing him._

_ But the way he died… was that in itself enough to create doubt in Ansem's mind, even when the experiments that were done were only one step above what had been done to _himself_? Yes, he had volunteered, but was that enough of a difference to justify the sudden concern that had not existed when it had been himself on the cutting table? Could it be that the lowest criminal mattered more than the apprentice, a person who had stood by him for so long?_

_ It makes sense, more than he wishes to acknowledge, but he does not understand _why_. Is it because he is not of this world, and so he does not deserve the same consideration as the other denizens? Or was it because Ansem thought of him not as _nothing_, but as… what, a danger, a threat? Something that was to be rid of in as useful a way as possible, although then Ienzo had proposed a different solution of using criminals that deserved what was coming to them. Except at this, Ansem now balked when he never before had hesitated. Why?_

_ He wants to ask. He could. It would be easy to, and the accusation is already on the tip of his tongue. But when he speaks, he asks not the questions that feel as if they are eating away at his insides, but instead continues to appeal to what the man does still care about. "Is it not our duty to continue going forward, to make his death mean something for those who yet live? We have come so far, and we can accomplish so much. But if you stop us, he has died for nothing. And so will others. Do you think the darkness will stop just because you propose to do so? Would you leave this world so unprotected?"_

_ And still, Ansem is reluctant as he closes his eyes, shaking his head as he asks, "Can one life be sacrificed for others?"_

_ "Why not, when you have already done so before?!"_

_ It has been so long since he has lost his temper like this, but there is a breaking point. And he has reached it. For how can Ansem continue to balk, after everything he had already done for the sake of Ansem's world? Does he deserve nothing for what he has done, no consideration for what he has gone through for the sake of helping Ansem fight the darkness? If it had been him, if it was _still_ him, would they even be having this conversation? Would anyone? No one would fight for him, not the other apprentices; they cared only for what he could give them, and his role as their so-called leader is because no one else would step up to it. And Ansem has already shown himself for what he truly is, and mentor and king and fa—no, never again. Never again will he allow himself to be deluded into believing that any of them care for him, not when… by the gods, the man had been a criminal! A rapist, a murderer, a sociopath who deserved what was coming to him, and yet for him, Ansem would suddenly remember these questions? Was morality so easy a thing to toss back on when convenient?_

_ Even in his rage, he notes the shock as the old man's eyes fly open, as if surprised to hear that he finally knows the truth. And he wants so badly to hit the man, but somehow—_somehow—_he swallows his pride, his dignity, his _humanity_ (for what person could keep these emotions inside without exploding?) as he bows. It is short, jerky and shaky and still angry even as he says, "I… apologize. That was unwarranted."_

_ The words are flat. He does not mean them, and even though Ansem knows it, the man decides to toss him a bone and pretend like it means _something_. "No… no. There is nothing for you to apologize for, Xehanort. I… I am only sorry that you feel that way. I never meant… you… you are right to be angry. But… this decision you are asking me to make, I cannot make it right now. I need some time. Please, Xehanort. I need time to decide."_

_ And by the end, the man is doing nothing short of pleading. But it is not enough. It will never be enough, and while he knows that he is not the only one who realizes this fact, he forces himself to speak, the words perfunctory at best. "If that is your will."_

_ While he no longer knows the true Ansem, he does know enough of the man to recognize that the conversation is over. Ansem looks old and tired, far beyond his age, and he would feel guilt if it was not for the overwhelming anger._

_ So face a stony calm, he turns to leave, and he cannot help but hate Ansem for doing nothing to stop him._

* * *

For the longest time he just sat there, staring at the doorway. He could not help but feel slightly irritated, especially with Riku having seen him in such a vulnerable position. But he should not have been surprised, even though he was no longer able to sense the darkness that pervaded through both Riku _and_ Xehanort—different, in their own ways, but still darkness—and prepare for it accordingly. Because now… now it seemed that whatever Xehanort had done to him was not limited to just cutting him off from his weapons, but all his other capabilities as well, leaving him even more defenseless. It was an unsettling thought, to say the least, especially since it meant that the two were more than capable now of catching him off-guard.

And considering what had happened, it was even less reassuring. Granted, the Heartless had never brought it up again, but he did not have to. Despite the fact that he lacked the emotional prerequisite to feel the true extent of what Xehanort had done, he still continued to dwell upon it. It would catch him off-guard at the worst possible times, when Xehanort leaned a little too close or watched him a little too long. Small things, with equally small reactions on his end, but both of them noticed and he knew that was enough for the Heartless to know that what had happened had _mattered_.

He had, at the beginning, hoped to move on from it quickly. It had hurt at the time, yes, more than he thought it ever would. He had never done it before, not as Ienzo or as a Nobody. As the wide-eyed, idealistic boy, he had been too absorbed in the stupidity of youth, believing that there would be time for it _later_. As a Nobody, he had not had the necessary interest to reach that point with any of the others, not even Lexaeus and Vexen. The others indulged, at times, but it was more contact than he would have liked and he had given up enough of himself as it was. There was nothing to be gained from it, and so he had not.

Besides, he had no idea why anyone would wish to engage in such a thing willingly. It had been like… suffocating, although there was nothing to impede his ability to breathe (did he even need to?). But the pain of the intrusion had almost been too much to bear, and he wondered—in a clinical, detached sort of way—if emotions _would_ have made it bearable, if a mind wrapped up in lust and ideals of love would have overcome the bitter fact that it _hurt_. And even if he was willing to believe that emotions could be that much stronger than physical pain, it was still only temporary.

The pain, on the other hand… he could cover the bruises that still stood out so luridly, despite the time—how long had it been anyway?—that had passed, but the experience itself still affected him and he simply could not understand why. He knew that it could not be fear, and what did he care about an invasion of such intimacy? Perhaps it was nothing more than simple irritation at his trying circumstances, but that did not seem… enough of an explanation, to say the least. It did not explain nearly enough, and so even now he found himself trying to figure out the why or how or just something that could distract him from that closing of his throat whenever he saw the Heartless.

How long had the Heartless planned for this? He knew Xehanort well enough to know that it was not a rash impulse. No, it had been _too_ prepared, as if waiting for an excuse to do so. Not that Xehanort needed an excuse, but it was not like him to take simply because he could. He liked to wait for a reason, to instill that gnawing doubt that it could have been prevented if _only_, although in reality it was only a matter of time. Self-blame and loathing were powerful tools; Zexion would know.

_ "Does this even affect you?"_

Even an idiot could have figured out that no answer was expected, so he had kept his silence and remained completely still. Like a hunted animal who did not want to be seen, although he supposed it was much too late for that. As far as he knew, Xehanort had only one person to toy with as the Heartless regained strength, although sometimes he considered tossing Riku to the wolf. He probably would if it was anything but a short-term solution; Xehanort would decimate Riku too quickly, and then it would be back to the same old. He doubted he would gain anything from it, since the Heartless would quickly figure out that it was not a display of loyalty but an attempt to save his own skin, and without a greater benefit to himself, he was not about to give up the one trump card that he possessed.

Although to label Riku a 'trump card' was laughable at best. The boy was unfathomably _weak_, considering the innate strength he had, and it was maddening that _still_ he was having to explain the fundamental principles of darkness! Perhaps it would be forgivable if Riku was simply stupid, but he knew that the boy was completely capable of understanding except that he chose _not_ to. If it had been anyone else, Xehanort would have been done away within days. With Riku, how long had they lingered in this hellhole while the boy fought with his own idiocy? How much longer would they? To the end of eternity, no doubt, especially if Riku continued to focus on the things that did not matter.

So what if he was bruised? So what if Xehanort was hurting him? It did not compel Riku to act any quicker, but instead distracted him. As if the boy needed any more distractions.

He looked down at the bruises, and noted with detachment that perhaps Riku could not be blamed for being so appalled. They were truly ugly, and he had spent so long avoiding them that he had forgotten the exact extent of damage. Of course they still hurt, but not enough to impair any of his functions, especially since he had little else to do except sit around and wait for something to happen.

His attempts to heal them had failed entirely; even the skills he had cultivated as a Nobody were cut off by what Xehanort had done. He could no longer cast the curing spells, and they certainly would not heal on their own. That inability had always irritated him, but it had never been a problem when the original apprentices were all capable potion brewers. If he had the proper materials, it would still not be a problem, but he would be damned if he asked Xehanort for anything right now. The Heartless would probably 'give in', and he would find himself in the monster's debt for far more than he gained.

Or could afford, especially when he had precious little left to give.

"So it seems that Nobodies do not heal so easily."

He whirled around, hand automatically going to pull down his sleeve, but before he could a cold hand had reached out to grab his arm. Unlike Riku, this one made no attempt to avoid causing him unnecessary pain and he was glaring at Xehanort. The Heartless looked down on him, a condescending smile on his face, "Are you ashamed?"

"Ashamed of what?" he replied, trying not to look away. How did the Heartless get in so quickly, without notice? He may no longer be so attuned to the darkness, but he still had his normal senses! He should not have been so caught off-guard, and now he felt the memory of humiliation as Xehanort inspected the bruises with false concern.

"Why did you not inform me of this earlier?" Xehanort asked. "It is not like you, Ienzo, to suffer quietly."

He grimaced; Xehanort was perfectly correct on that point. Ienzo had always had a rather low pain tolerance, having been brought up in comfortable settings that had never exposed him to the harsher realities of life. "It is not that bad. And I am no longer Ienzo."

The Heartless didn't even bother to respond to that usual denial, instead continuing his examination. "Not that bad? These look rather painful, and they should have healed by now. Or are Nobodies simply incapable of healing?"

"Not on our own," he replied, knowing there was nothing to gain by keeping that information to himself. Not when Xehanort already suspected, and was only looking for confirmation that could easily be obtained through more… dangerous avenues. Better to be cautious. "Without proper bodily functions, Nobodies are in a perpetual state of being. If we are injured, we must rely on other forms of healing, such as spells and potions."

"That seems rather inconvenient."

"Not usually. With time, one can cultivate spells that substitute for the healing ability. It cannot be used on the most devastating injuries, of course, but for smaller purposes it is quite effective."

Xehanort nodded, a gesture that was almost absent-minded. It was quite familiar. "Ah. Survival of the fittest; only those who last long enough and are clever enough to tap into the full extent of their powers will survive. Correct?"

It would have been easy to answer. In fact, he had already opened his mouth to automatically respond, but then abruptly closed it. Xehanort gave him a strange look, but he didn't care. He could no longer allow himself be drawn so easily into these conversations, as if nothing had changed since they were apprentices. Because things had changed, and while Ienzo shared part of the blame Xehanort had been the catalyst, and he would not allow himself to be drawn into such deceptions again. "What of it?"

"What of it?" Xehanort repeated, a tint of incredulity in his voice. But there was something in his eyes that made Zexion certain he knew what this was about, although instead he said, "Scientifically speaking, you do not find it fascinating?"

He shrugged, trying his best to sound like he did not care, "Only when I am not the subject in question."

"Is that how you think I see you?" Xehanort asked. "As a mere experiment?"

"I would rather not speculate." _Choking on his own vomit, the acrid taste overwhelming but not enough because he could still feel _everything_ as he was pushed down even further, to the point that he could barely breathe, and it felt like it would never end but he needed it to so badly, and—_"What are you doing?!"

His voice was shrill, and he hated himself for it, although the expression that Xehanort gave him in return was completely emotionless. "What does it look like I am doing, Ienzo?"

Even though the answer was obvious, he did not know what to say. Instead, he could only stare uselessly as the Heartless, now finished with his right arm, cast a cure spell on the left. "Any other wounds you wish to tell me of now, while I am still feeling generous?"

Generosity was the farthest thing from the Heartless's mind though; already Xehanort's hands were running down his body, coming to a stop on his hips. He flushed, trying to edge away even as he bit down the panic that he should not even capable of feeling, but then the grip tightened (not that it mattered, he never had room to get away anyway, not with Xehanort, not when he was defenseless, not when he could do nothing to save himself even when it was the only thing that mattered) and that cold, knowing smile was upon the Heartless's face again. "Is something the matter? You are not embarrassed, are you?"

"Why do you ask when you already know the answer?" He couldn't see it, but he doesn't need to in order to know that his face is white, whether from the pain—_fingers digging in until a reaction is forced out, a soft, hissed gasp, barely anything but more than he should have given_—or… something else, he did not know, but he wanted nothing more than to get those hands away. The memories were stirring, threatening to engulf him, and it was difficult enough to face Xehanort when he had his wits about him. The senseless but overwhelming need to get away was… no. _No._ He would not let it control him, not when it was not even real; he could not feel, he could not give in to something that did not even exist, he _would not._

But he knew that when it came to Xehanort, mere strength of will was never enough. It was always a balancing act with the man (and now the Heartless), needing to appear somewhere between interesting enough to keep alive, and not interesting enough to notice. In this situation though, it was all the more difficult because he did not have all the pieces, and could only move blindly in the dark because he simply did not know enough.

Xehanort wanted something. He didn't know what, he didn't even think he wanted to know, but he knew that he was not being kept around for purposes of amusement, or for such inane scientific inquiries. Neither of those were a real purpose, not the kind that normally would compel the Heartless, and so Xehanort must want something in order to come here so often.

"Because with you," Xehanort said quietly, keeping his hands where they were which made Zexion want to squirm (he would have too if there were not so many implications in the gesture), "I do not always know the answer. You are hard to know, Ienzo."

The Heartless was leaning towards him, getting too close. Much too close, but he knew better than to back away at a time like this. Who knew how Xehanort would interpret that moment of weakness? "The same could be said of you, you do realize," he replied, his tone dry.

"But there are other ways of knowing a person," Xehanort said, and before he could ask what that meant, the Heartless was kissing him.

There was no warning. But whether it was shock or self-preservation, Zexion again knew better than to push him away although he could not help but note that this was a rather… odd development. It had certainly not happened last time. In fact, Xehanort had been careful to stay away from that area in general, focusing instead on punishment and pain, on the unwanted intimacy and remnants of humiliation. He could not even begin to speculate on the reasoning behind this… act.

And the kiss—that too, was indefinable. If Zexion had not known better, he would have thought it almost loving, but Xehanort had been incapable of love even as a human. There was a motivation behind it; he did not know what, but there had to be, unless it was just another excuse to confuse and bewilder him, in which case the Heartless was doing an excellent job. Sex and romance as tools; it was not a stretch of the mind, really, although he had never bothered with such things. It just seemed too messy and rife with problems, although Xehanort seemed to see differently as the kiss was deepened, although it remained quite gentle. He allowed the Heartless to do as it pleased even as he suppressed a shudder when those cold fingers pulled down his pants, coming to rest on the bruises that dotted his hips, the bruises that _Xehanort_ himself had made.

Bruises that Xehanort was now healing, and he couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief as the pain finally disappeared. He knew of course that it was a mistake, but Xehanort did not comment, instead smiling into the kiss—oh yes, they were still kissing, and it was gentle and soft but still he wanted nothing more than to _get away_—before finally drawing back. "Now. That was not so bad, was it Ienzo?"

He did not even bother to dignify that with a response, although that might only have been because he had no answers left to give.

* * *

End Notes:

Riku's rather apt description of Zexion as a 'mindfucking jerkface with flippy hair' is alas, not of my own making. My friends came up with it while playing Re: CoM, and I liked it so much I asked if I could use it.

On a more dreary note, about 8,000 words into the chapter I took a look at the chapter and asked myself, "Does anything even _happen_ in this stupid thing?" And at this point, I am not sure I can answer that in the affirmative. I think a major problem with this story is that it is too damn _dense_, but then it's not such a good idea to change it in the middle of the story, although I did make an effort to tone it down during Riku's part of the chapter. But for the other two… so far, it just seems to be a natural style of the fic, which probably isn't really a good enough excuse but I have no other way to explain it….

But anyway, apologies (as usual) for the insane amount of time it has taken me to update. I would like to say that I think the next updates might come faster because the story has finally reached the point where Riku's scenes are no longer the same 'I don't understand anything' whiny bitchiness, but I think that might still be a little too optimistic of me. So have a chapter preview instead. It's actually from what looks like might end up being my favorite scene (laugh).

Upcoming Chapter Preview:

"_You are such a child," Zexion snapped. "An insolent, stupid, _selfish_ boy who think he knows everything when it is his own ignorance that has undone him. You refuse to the tools you possess, and misuse the facts you do not understand. You think you know what is happening? You know _nothing_ of what I have done to ensure that Xehanort does not know of your brief moments of awareness, and yet you dare to play martyr with me? In your haste you will die, and I am starting to believe that I would be better off if I just let you."_


	6. The Truth Behind the Truth

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: I want to take a moment to thank everyone who reads and/or reviews this fic. I honestly should have done this sooner. And also, thank you all for your patience when it comes to my updating schedule. I had originally hoped to have a monthly updating schedule, but then law school came around and there went that plan.

I do appreciate the reviews, and wish I could work on this story more. But the most I can say is that I will do the best that I can, and try to work on making the writing more coherent than it currently is. As for MarciKupo's question on where exactly this story is taking place: the world they are in is a temporary one of Xehanort's creation. At least that's what he claims. I think in my own head at least, I imagine it as an offshoot of a dark corridor, made more permanent and isolated off by Xehanort's control of the darkness.

**VI: The Truth Behind the Truth**

There were a lot of things that Riku could have said. He had, after all, come up with more than a few alternatives as he had made the journey to the Nobody's room. But when he finally pushed open the door and found himself looking at the guy, the long list of things he could have said suddenly condensed down to two, very concise words.

"Fuck. You."

Stunned silence. Normally this would be a cause for gloating, since it took quite a bit to stun the Nobody, but Riku felt nothing. Nothing except anger, which just barely covered for the way his stomach felt—like the bottom had dropped out because now it was only a matter of time before things were _over_. And so when Zexion did not respond, instead continuing to stare at him like he had grown a fifth head, he repeated as deliberately and clearly as he possibly could, "_Fuck. You._"

"Do I even want to know?" Zexion asked, but despite the heavy sarcasm the dark blue eyes were narrowed—_wary._ The Nobody had clearly recovered from the shock of having been found out, and for the _oddest_ reason the complete lack of remorse did nothing to improve Riku's temper.

"As if you don't already _know_," he snapped back, and Zexion threw his hands up in frustration. But he was ready for that, and even as the Nobody spoke, he found what he was looking for.

"Perhaps if you could be more _specific_ in your list of grievances, then-"

"Your wounds are healed," he interrupted with a calm that he did not feel. Had not felt since coming out of the darkness and realized what was happening.

Zexion fell silent. Although he did not look surprised, he at least looked unsettled—but then, he had probably never expected this to happen, did he? Had he really expected that Riku would never figure out… well, of course he would. As far as the Nobody knew, Riku was an incompetent idiot who was used to having his puppet strings jerked. The bastard probably never dreamed that Riku would figure things out on his own, and faced with the reality… Riku could just see the gears turning, coming up with an excuse, an explanation, a _lie_, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He was sick and tired of hearing the same bullshit, especially since he now knew exactly what was going on. "I _know_."

And for this, he got a look that was typically reserved for insects. It was the same look Riku had gotten back at Castle Oblivion, during that first meeting. The one that said he was useless—no, worse than useless, _nothing_. "You know what, exactly?"

"Don't act like I'm stupid!" he yelled, hating the icy tone that still, even now, gave nothing even though there wasn't any point in hiding anymore. No guilt, no emotion, no _humanity_. "I know! I saw! What the hell was I thinking, getting worried about you? How dare you make me worry about you! No wonder you didn't want me to see your injuries, except they weren't even injuries to begin with! I knew I shouldn't have listened to you. You never planned on leaving, never planned on… what was this, wasting my time? Playing games again? Did he plant you here to throw me off?" Before he knew what he was doing, he had grabbed onto Zexion's shoulders, and it's all he could do not to shake the Nobody until the bastard showed _something_. "He knows, doesn't he? He must. He-"

"What in the name of Kingdom Hearts are you blathering about?"

It wasn't that he had expected this to be easy. Nothing could be easy, especially when it came to the Nobody. But he had not expected this… play at innocence—Zexion might have been a master of deception, but at the same time he was… it wasn't honesty as much as absolutely obsessed with hard truths. Sometimes it seemed like Zexion didn't lie as much as completely fuck around with the truth. Which amounted to the same thing, except not because there was usually an honest basis to his remarks.

Not that it mattered either way. He _knew_ now. In a way, knew more than he even wanted to.

His hands clenched into fists, and he tried to keep his voice from shaking as he practically hissed, "I _saw_ you two."

This finally seemed to have caught the guy's attention, judging from the look of pure shock he got, but even then Zexion refused to give in as the Nobody demanded, "What did you see? Why did you not tell me earlier? You should not be seeing anything, not in your current state. The control the Heartless over your body should be absolute, and-"

"Yeah, you would like that, wouldn't you? What the _hell_ makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?" he shot back, although a part of him was almost… _dismayed_. That… that was the only thing Zexion cared about? Not _what_ he had seen, the Nobody's betrayal? It only seemed to strengthen his anger, and he snapped, "Why should I tell you when you've just been using me?"

Zexion just looked exasperated, shaking his head as he said, "I made no secret of my intentions, and for you to imply otherwise-"

Riku couldn't control himself any more, and under any other circumstances he would have been mortified by his yell of, "That was before I realized your intentions involved him shoving his tongue down your throat!"

If he was expecting Zexion to show… he didn't know, shame, anger, guilt, _anything_, he wasn't sure if the flicker of horror was sufficient. But as quickly as it was there it was gone away, and Zexion said coldly, "So you have been keeping secrets from me."

This time it was his turn to stare, "Are you even _listening_ to what I am saying? You are missing the point!"

"The point I believe you are trying to make is incorrect," was the soft response, a definite edge to the words. But he didn't want to hear it anymore, and cut the Nobody off before anything else could be said.

"So what I saw wasn't the two of you making out?" he asked sarcastically.

Zexion winced, but again regained his composure all too quickly, "How do you expect me to answer that when I do not know how much you-"

"Because you're not denying it," he interrupted, the words bitter with… what? What did it matter to him if Zexion had been lying to him all this time? Wasn't it what he had expected all along? It was not as if he had ever trusted the guy… no, he had only relied on him because it was his only way out of this nightmare, and now he had discovered that it was just a pipe dream. It was positively sickening, to realize that he was never going to get out of here.

"No." Zexion had not moved during the entire conversation, remaining seated where he was, even when Riku had grabbed him. His eyes caught Riku's, and the Nobody continued, "But what you saw was-"

Somehow, the affirmation of his world crumbling to pieces pissed him off less than the way even now, Zexion was _still_ trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. "Was what?! What could you possibly say to explain _that_?!"

"You do not understand what you saw!" Zexion looked frustrated, which wasn't surprising considering how the bastard's plans were unraveling. Apparently this sort of thing didn't happen to the Nobody often, which made Riku feel vindictively pleased. "If for one second you would stop and listen to reason, I-"

"I what? I'll agree that you've been jerking me around? What, you need a verbal confirmation that you've succeeded in royally screwing me over again? Fuck, how much time have I wasted trying to listen to you?! If I hadn't wasted all this time, I'd-"

"You would be dead," Zexion said, his voice flat.

He rolled his eyes, "Well, of course you would say that! You're trying to stop me from getting control back!"

The dark blue eyes flashed. "Do not pin your inabilities on me. I have given you everything you needed to take your body back. _Everything_. I have told you precisely what you needed to do, and it is not my fault that you are completely and utterly incompetent. Do you think I like staying here anymore than you do? Do you think-"

"I don't know what to think anymore! And you haven't helped me do jack shit!" He was yelling by this point, but he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Because he was never going to get his body back. He was never going to _exist_ _as an independent entity_. He was never going to be able to make up for what he did. He was _never_ going to see Sora and Kairi again, to tell them he was sorry, and to ask them for forgiveness. Instead, he was going to be taken over by some crazed psychopath and his equally crazed accomplice, and now he was being blamed for it?

Maybe he did deserve blame for it. Maybe he deserved blame for being _stupid_ enough to listen to someone who had tried to kill him. "Everything you have done, you did for yourself. You did for _him_. All that crap about the darkness being good, that I needed to accept it—what the hell was that? Something to make it easier for him to take control, or to have a more powerful 'host' once he did? I can't believe I listened to you, that I could ever have thought you were right!"

"_Please_." Sarcasm dripped from the word. "As if you had a better plan. If it was up to you, you would be a mere smear on the wall after he had destroyed you completely."

"Well, at least I would have done something," he shot back. "What have you been doing? Sitting nice and close to Xehanort while-"

The sentence came to an abrupt death when Zexion stood, his face pale, twisted, and almost (_almost_, but not quite) angry. "Shut _up_. You have no idea what I have done, no idea what-"

It was the closest he had ever come to seeing the Nobody lose control, but somehow it just didn't matter. He wasn't going to let the bastard manipulate him again, not this time. It wasn't hard to remember exactly what the cause of his anger was, not when he remembered it so damn vividly. Clawing back into consciousness, expecting to find himself in Xehanort's room—only to find himself staring down at Zexion. He had tried to speak, tried to act, but could do nothing. Zexion speaking although he could not hear the words, lips that were no longer his curling into a smile and the last thing he had known was the Heartless was kissing the Nobody, and he had only the briefest of seconds to stare before the darkness had whirled around him again, plunging him into unconsciousness.

He didn't know how much time had passed since then. He didn't care. Because the only thing he could think of when he had finally returned to himself—completely this time—was the kiss which represented everything about the ruins that he once called his life. That he had been tricked, that he was stuck, that everything he had done was _useless_ because it was all part of some elaborate scheme. He had never had a chance, and the realization was… he didn't know. He didn't know what to do anymore, but what he did know was that he was not going to back down until he got the truth. "What _you_ did? What, you mean… helping out Xehanort? What was I, some game so that you could score points? Were you two having some bet on who was going to get rid of me first?"

"You," Zexion hissed, "are such a _child_. An insolent, stupid, _selfish_ boy who thinks he knows everything when it is his own ignorance that has undone him. You refuse to the tools you possess, and misuse the facts you do not even understand! You think you know what is happening? You know _nothing_ of what I have gone through when I could have informed Xehanort of your brief moments of awareness, and yet you dare to play martyr with _me_?"

"Me? _Me?_ Play martyr?!" This was… _insane_. "Last I heard, you were the one who made it clear that you're doing this because you claimed you didn't want that psychopath around anymore than I do! What the hell have you given up? What the hell have you even _done_ except sit here in this room and wait on him hand and foot? It's not like it's made any fucking difference except to help you and him get cozy together! I haven't done anything and you sure as hell haven't done anything because that Heartless is still here, and-"

Zexion cut him off, his voice trembling with emotion except the Nobody _didn't feel emotions_. "And if you would deign to look past your nose, you would see that there are others besides you who suffer and their pain does not begin nor end with _your_ self-glorified existence."

"Like?" he demanded. "I lost my body! Because of you! I'm stuck in this hell because of _you_, and you can still act all high and fucking mighty when you're Xehanort's right hand man? You _sicken_ me."

For a long moment, the only thing that could be heard was his own heavy breathing as he continued to glare at Zexion, who stared back silently, lips thin. And finally, the Nobody turned away and said without asking, "What do you want."

And suddenly, he felt empty. It was as if the anger had burned out of him. What did he want? What had he even expected when he had stormed into the Nobody's room—what had he hoped to get out of that? To be honest, he hadn't been thinking. He had just wanted to confront the Nobody, to get the truth out of him. But now it was like it didn't matter anymore. Whether it was because he just didn't care anymore, or if he simply knew he was never going to get it—not from Zexion, anyway—he didn't know.

But really… it just didn't matter anymore. And they both knew it. Because he was completely and utterly lost, and now it was really only a matter of time before Xehanort took him over completely.

Just as the Nobody had planned, no doubt.

"I don't want anything from you," he said, the words harsh. A part of him was surprised that he actually meant it, although it was mostly resignation for his fate. Strange. He had always thought he would face his end head-on, rather than just giving in. But he just… he had dared to hope. He had dared to believe that Zexion truly could help him get out of this mess even though he had no reason to, and although he had always told himself that he didn't trust the Nobody… something inside of him had just given up when he realized that he truly was alone, with no way out of this.

He turned away, staring through the wall at the darkness beyond the door as he said finally, "You don't _have_ anything I want."

And with that, he stormed out.

* * *

_It is becoming a recurrent event, the angry reminder. "I told you we were taking a risk, doing that experiment. We were not ready!"_

_ "I did not see you trying to stop me," he points out calmly, and he can just imagine Even's lips thinning. He cares little though, barely sparing the blond a glance before returning to the journals._

_ "You seemed determined. I know better than to stop you."_

_ His lips curl into a brittle smile, "And there had been no reason to, of course?"_

_ He looks up just in time to see Even whirling around, his green eyes narrowed into slits, "What is _that_ supposed to mean?!"_

_ Xehanort shrugs, striving for nonchalance and judging from Even's gritted teeth, succeeding. "We all know that if it had worked out well, you would have reaped the rewards. And if it had not, which is incidentally enough what happened, you would have the perfect scapegoat. Is that not right, Ienzo?"_

_ Ienzo looks up to give them both a 'do not get me involved' look, and he grins as he changes the subject to the youngest apprentice, "While we are on the subject, what _are_ you working on over there?"_

_ "Plans for the new facility," Ienzo responds easily. "Aeleus helped me prepare them last night."_

_ "Have you not heard?" Even asks bitterly, glaring at Xehanort as if this is all somehow his fault. "We are not to continue the experiments any further."_

_ "And where have we heard that before?" Ienzo replies, his tone almost flippant as he goes back to his work. "That experiment was dangerous because we did not have the proper facilities. We had the right equipment, but lacked the ability to contain that creature. Which was to be expected since nothing could have predicted that result, but now that we do know, it is only a matter of containing the creature so that it will not wreak havoc the next time."_

_ "If there will even be a next time," Even grumbles, but there is a brightness in his eyes as he savors the possibilities. "Master Ansem-"_

_ "Master Ansem is a fair man," Xehanort intercedes smoothly. "He is also a man of science. He will listen to reason." He decides not to tell the two of his conversation with the man after the last debacle. Granted, they might have figured it out already, given how Ansem had locked himself in his study since 'the incident,' leaving his apprentices to their own devices. Even Braig had contributed more than his usual share (forcing Xehanort to grudgingly admit that the man was brilliant—when he could be bothered to be, anyway), and they were proving to be an effective group even without someone to lead them._

_ But then, someone _was_ leading them. And as he walks over to Ienzo, his eyes scanning over the architecture plans, he knows that he will be greater than his predecessor could ever have hoped to be._

_ "Wonderful."_

_ Ienzo starts, apparently unaware that he has moved to stand behind the youngest apprentice. He gives the boy a warm smile, reaching over him to smooth out the wrinkled paper, "But why would you make these plans if there is little chance we will continue the experiments?"_

_ "Surely you do not believe that," Ienzo replies, turning to look up at him. "I doubt you will stand down so easily, considering your personal stake."_

_ "Who knows what a person will do?" he says, finger running down the intricate designs. It is easy to recognize where Aeleus's work ends and Ienzo's influence begins, although the two have always worked well together. Theirs was a partnership, filling in the gaps that the other left behind to create a product that was stronger than what anyone else could have made alone, but he knows without asking whose idea it was to create these plans in the first place. "What is your role in this then, Ienzo, seeing how you have no personal stake?"_

_ Ienzo looks surprised. Unsure. Xehanort is not sure what to make of that, nor of the vague response. "I will do what needs to be done."_

_ "And what is that, Ienzo? Surely someone as opinionated as you has a reason."_

_ The sharp look he gets is quite unexpected, and the scowl is not of a sulking boy but of someone who has realized that danger is close. An animal, backed into a corner. "My reasons are my own, Xehanort."_

_ Although he continues to smile, inside he is… surprised. He had thought that the boy would be one of his greatest followers, having shown a mind that was both intelligent and ruthless in its capabilities. But perhaps he was wrong to think that. Those same traits could easily be turned against him, especially since Ienzo seemed to have no loyalties to anyone but himself. The same could likely be said of the others, no doubt. He will have to watch out for him, for all of them, and be prepared to deal with any situation that should arise._

_ It is… unfortunate, but he supposes he understands seeing how he too holds no loyalty to anyone. Except for himself._

_ "You do not share the same interest as the rest of us?" This comes from Even, no doubt reasserting his presence should anyone forget._

_ "Of course," Ienzo answers quickly, looking over at the blond. "But there are always limits to what one should or should not do."_

_ It is obvious who those words are meant for, although Ienzo avoids looking at him. His smile tightens even as he straightens with a flourish, speaking as lightly as he can, "Well either way, these plans are most excellent. My compliments to both you and Aeleus; the two of you always do such magnificent work."_

_ Both Ienzo and Even give him odd looks, and his smile does not falter as they exchange glances. After a long silence, Ienzo finally says, "… thank you," although he looks unsure of the compliment. If that is even what it is._

_ But Xehanort does not slow down, instead picking up the plans and rolling them, up, pausing before he hands them over to Even who is too shocked to do anything but take them. "Take these plans to Master Ansem, Even."_

_ Even's eyes seem to flash as he says indignantly, "Who are you to order me around, Xehanort? Besides, would you not rather do it yourself?" For although the blond would never confront him directly on this, Even has certainly noticed the fact that Xehanort, who had once kept Ansem to himself as if a jealous puppy guarding a child, no longer cares about taking credit. No longer cares about Ansem's opinion._

_ He smiles, and it is an odd smile. He is almost not sure if he smiling or frowning. It is instead empty, rather like himself._

_ "He does not trust me anymore, I think."_

_ "I cannot blame him," Ienzo says abruptly, and they both turn to the boy who just shrugs at them. "Well, you have been acting rather oddly towards him."_

_ "Oh?" The smile is becoming painful, but he must maintain the façade for at least a little longer. Long enough to turn the other apprentices to his side, to serve him over the old king. But moments such as this prove that it will be more difficult than he had expected, their paranoid suspicions combating with that desire to know the secrets of the heart. Still, he has no doubt in his abilities, and he places an encouraging hand on Ienzo's shoulder—did he or did he not imagine that flinch?—as he says, "Do explain."_

_ "You no longer respect him," Ienzo replies, his voice calm but his eyes wary. "I doubt you have respected him for quite some time, but now you make no effort to hide it. In fact, your actions are close to bordering on disgust with the decisions that he has made."_

_ "But he has made some foolish decisions though, do you not agree?"_

_ Ienzo opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out as he instead looks like the trapped animal again. Xehanort's eyes narrow, the hand starting to tighten as-_

_ But to both their surprise, Even intervenes before he can speak, walking between them and forcing him to quickly draw back from the boy. The blond could easily have walked around, slipping away before the proverbial storm hit, but he instead strides right past them without even a backwards glance, let alone an apology. Both Xehanort and Ienzo stare after Even in amazement, and it is only when the study door closes that they are shaken out of their shock. _

_ Ienzo quickly gathers up his things. Xehanort doesn't move to stop him, instead looking still at the heavy oak door. But as Ienzo starts to leave, he gives into a moment's indulgence and asks, "And what of you? Do you no longer trust me as well?"_

_ Without breaking stride or even truly acknowledging his presence, Ienzo replies simply, "Who said I ever trusted you to begin with?"_

* * *

He did not move when the door slammed shut, instead keeping his gaze on the wall that reminded him of the main hospital's psychiatric ward. For even in a world as supposedly peaceful as Radiant Garden, not everything was perfect. The psychiatric ward had always been a stark reminder of that fact, with its people who no longer had a grip on reality wandering through as if in a dream. Ienzo had always wondered what that was like, and now Zexion was starting to think he had a pretty decent idea of it.

It would be all too easy. To push his mind just a little farther, to let go of a Nobody's tenacious hold on what was real and what was not. So much time and effort was put into maintaining that connection with sanity, but right now he was wondering why he even bothered. There was nothing to be gained from it, and perhaps a detachment from reality would be preferable to the reality itself.

He scowled, shaking his head angrily. _Fool_. There was no reason to go down that path, no need yet for such overreaction. No matter what that boy, that… _idiot_ thought he had seen, he would be back. His plans were not over yet. No, there was no reason at all to think that his current situation would become the rest of his existence rather than a phase, no reason. He just… Riku just needed time to cool off, to think things through logically. If the boy was even capable of it. That was a potential problem; if the boy was at all capable of logical thought, they would not _be_ in this mess in the first place.

But what other choice did he have? Or had. The boy obviously did not trust him anymore. Not that there was ever any trust to begin with. But Riku _had_ at least recognized that Zexion was his only chance out of this mess, and now… if the boy really did believe he was working with the Heartless, then that would be problematic indeed. There was little time left; Xehanort was strong already, and any longer and it would be impossible for Riku to ever break free. Likely because Riku would no longer _exist_, done away with by the Heartless.

The vindictive part of him that remained despite having his heart ripped out years ago was pleased with that concept. If he was capable of anger, he would have… well, he did not know exactly what he would have done, but even without the real emotion he had….

Those things that Riku had said. It had cut deep, deeper than that idiot was able to recognize. He was still trying to puzzle out what exactly Riku had _seen_. He had always suspected that the boy knew more than he let on, but this… this was rather unexpected. He had not known that Riku could see events that were happening, although like the boy's painfully selective memory, it seemed that this phenomenon was not a constant one. For if it was, perhaps Riku would have realized that he was _not_ here anymore voluntarily than Riku was, but was being held here against his will. Being toyed with for no discernable reason, being used for-

_Stop_. The command was calm. It had to be. He had to stop thinking about that; it was only once. The bruises that had served as a lurid reminder of that… night, day, whenever it was, but it no longer mattered because it was _over_. It would not happen again; Xehanort had never _shown_ interest in having it happen again.

Until recently, anyway.

Slowly, he touched his lips. They were cold and dry, and… what did it _mean_? What did any of this mean?!

He hated to lose control like this, even if it was only over his own thoughts. Or perhaps especially. There was so little that was within his control now that even the slightest loss was unbearable. Whatever it was that Xehanort was trying to accomplish, the Heartless certainly was succeeding in confusing him. Even that kiss… there was no lust, no sexual tension, no _feeling_ behind it. Granted, Xehanort was equally as incapable of emotion as he was, but there was something so perfunctory about the gesture that it made him wonder what the point of it even was. Xehanort was certainly not the type to do something without reason, which made the situation all the more troubling.

Of course, it might have just been that. Something for him to spin his mind around, trying to read into when there was no meaning to begin with. Yet somehow he had the feeling it was not as simple as that. Because although it had not hurt, not like the last time the Heartless had interacted… intimately with him, it was enough of a reminder of that time that he had barely been able to stand it. Because it meant that the _other_ thing could happen again, that perhaps Xehanort expected it to happen again, that-

_No_. _It will not happen again_.

As if he could hope to stop Xehanort from doing whatever the Heartless desired. And knowing his damned luck, the boy would choose that _exact_ moment to see again, to witness his humiliation and no doubt misinterpret it all over again. Riku always was so good at seeing only what he wanted, and he would likely see it as a confirmation of some purported _betrayal_, would fail utterly to see the pain, the fact that he _did not_ want it… how could anyone want that, being pinned down, incapable of controlling his own _body_ as the Heartless took whatever it wanted and left nothing-

_Stop._ But this time it did not end there, the memories he could no longer control making him feel sick. He wanted to vomit, wanted to get out of this room, but all he could do was sink to his knees and try to breathe, try to control something, _anything_ because he could not take it anymore. It had been easy to ignore before in Riku's presence, the memory of fury overtaking everything as he tried to defend himself, to make Riku see _reason_. But now with nothing concrete to direct his anger at, it was at the forefront of everything.

That self-righteous _idiot_. Somehow, the fact that Riku had seen only made the situation worse—how was it that anyone could have confused _rape_ (was it rape if he felt nothing?) for something else? Because that was what it was, even though he could not bring himself to… he had never wanted anything to do with this and those feelings, those memories, to have that _thrown_ into his face as if it was the centerpiece of that idiot's delusions—no, _stop, stop, stop, _stop_ it._

It took everything in him not to scream when hands suddenly took him by the shoulders and made him stand. For a wild moment he wondered if it was Riku, come back to grovel for realizing his utter _stupidity_, but rationality quickly took over. Not only was the boy stubborn, but he was too weak to do this.

Which left only one person.

"Are you hurt?" The false concern in Xehanort's voice only made him want to fall back down again, but instead of giving into the weakness he jerked away, turning to face the Heartless. Of course he knew that he was only able to do so because Xehanort let him, but it was something and when for so long there had been nothing he took what he could get.

For a long moment there was only silence, punctuated by his own heavy breaths as he tried to regain some semblance of composure. The Heartless said nothing, watching him with an almost curious look, but it could not last and when a hand reached out to touch him, he knocked it away. "Do not-"

He should have known better than that, the words too weak to mean anything. And still Xehanort said nothing, instead reaching out again. And again, he moved to prevent the contact, but his wrist was quickly grabbed, the pain of the hold enough of a distraction to allow the Heartless to cup his chin, tilting his head up so that he was looking directly into those disturbing eyes.

"What do you want?" For the second time that day, he asked the question and wished it did not sound as pitiful as it did. And when there was no response, he repeated it again, his voice turning shrill by the end, "What do you _want_?"

"You truly do not know?" Echoing, the angry accusation, _As if you didn't already _know_._ Ienzo had always had answers, always known what to say. Zexion had been the same, had _needed_ to be the same because no matter how much he despised the person he once was he could not let go of those habits, having so tenuous an existence as it was.

But now he had no answers. Everyone seemed to think he did but he did not. How was he to know what they were thinking, when they made so little comprehensible sense? Whether it was Riku's utterly irrational fear of the darkness or the Heartless's nonsensical goals, he knew _not_ of what they wanted from him. And more than that, he did not know what he even had to _offer_ anymore.

"No." It was not a confession, but a simple statement of fact. He had never known what the Heartless wanted. _Or perhaps_, a voice that sounded conspicuously of Ienzo,_ you did not want to know—_stop _it._ "Not _again_."

He was not even sure who he was speaking to at this point, but at Xehanort's look of mild surprise, he found he no longer had the self-control to hold back any longer. "Not once have you ever answered my questions, not once have you told me anything that matters, not _once_ have you revealed your true intentions. You have no reason to keep me here. There is nothing that I can do for you that you yourself cannot do, as you have so _aptly_ proven time and time again. You play these games, and expect what? What do you expect to gain from this pathetic display of your almighty powers? Do you need an audience so badly that even now, you would waste your time with a _Nobody_?"

The grip on his face tightened, the only sign of the Heartless's anger as Xehanort said tonelessly, "Sarcasm does not suit you, Ienzo."

It was a warning, but he no longer cared as he snapped, "And we both know that is something you could not care less about. What do you want, Xehanort? Tell me, so I can give it to you and be done with it!"

The last words—a yell, almost—seemed to echo through the room, a contrast to the way his sentences usually seemed to be sucked into the void so that there was nothing left. It was getting hard to breathe again, although that was his own doing rather than the Heartless's. Except perhaps on an indirect level, as if Xehanort had not been here, none of this would be happening.

_None of this._

"Fascinating," Xehanort finally said, his tone implying anything but as he leaned close. "You appear to be panicking. Are Nobodies even capable of that?"

"I am not-"

"You are," was the flat response to the weak protest. Cold eyes seemed to stare straight through him. "Why is that, when you should be incapable of such a feat? Is there something else going on, to make you act so rashly?"

He said nothing, had nothing to say, and could only lean away as much as he could. Which was not very far at all, and he wondered feverishly why this fact _surprised_ him when logically of course that was true, but it was difficult to remember logic when all he could hear was the silence where his heart should have been racing. Except he did not have a heart, would likely never have a heart again, and somehow that fact no longer dismayed him because it was meaningless given the current situation, and the hand at his face had dropped down to his neck, and Xehanort said idly, "You already know what I want, do you not?"

_No._ He did not, how _could _he, but the words stuck in his throat as he was forced to move. He did not need to look to see where they were headed, where he was being forced to now, and he shook his head. Denial. He had never been one for denial because it meant blinding oneself to the truth, but right now, it seemed vastly preferable to what he _knew_ was coming.

It answered little though. Why? What did Xehanort hope to gain from this, why was this being _done_? His eyes slid to the side, looking for a way out (he knew there was none so why persist; he should be saving his strength, saving his—except it would not matter because he was too weak to act anyway, too weak to prevent what was happening), but then Xehanort said quietly, "Look at me."

He couldn't. He couldn't because suddenly knew what he would find in the Heartless's eyes, and it was the truth that he suddenly knew but could not accept because it meant that nothing he had done mattered, that nothing he could do would make a difference because Riku was useless and his plans meaningless, for—"_Look at me._"

This time the words were accompanied by a hard shake, and he had to fight down the urge to retch because he did not need any more humiliation; this was enough, this was more than enough but he knew now that it was not enough for the Heartless. Slowly, he forced himself to look into the Heartless's eyes. A split second was enough to confirm his worst suspicions, just in time to be pushed backwards onto the bed. Xehanort pinned him easily before he could think to find a position he could defend himself from, but it was not as if he was ever capable of it. Not even when he'd had his powers was he capable of it, not against this monster.

"I want you under me," Xehanort said, the words terrifying in how calmly they were spoken. He did not struggle, frozen even as the Heartless pushed him down further. "I want you under me, Ienzo, begging for mercy."

Not Ienzo. _Not_ Ienzo was what he wanted to say because if the Heartless wanted to punish Ienzo for whatever reason, then this was doing nothing because he was not that weak, idiotic boy who thought himself too good to keep his mouth shut when it would have saved them a lot of trouble. The boy who apparently he was being mistaken for because he was _not_ him, had not been for the better part of a decade but all that came out was a soft, pathetic gasp.

He would not beg. _He would not_, he demanded (as if he was in any position to demand such things, even of himself). It would do no good anyway, would only be a waste, would accomplish nothing because if this is what the Heartless had wanted from the very beginning… there was never anything he could have done to stop it.

But why? He did not understand why this was actually happening, but he quickly found that it no longer mattered as Xehanort leaned close so that their faces were not even an inch apart.

And all he could see was the insanity in those orange eyes, an insanity that was no doubt mirrored now in his own. Anger, horror, _fear_—things he could not feel but it was all he knew right now as Xehanort spoke.

"I want to _break_ you."

_You knew this was going to happen_, the voice that was _not_ Ienzo said, but even it was too weakened by terror to sound smug.

_

* * *

End Notes:_

The chapter itself pleases me (especially considering how easy it was to write after the amount of time it took me to really get started on it), but its pacing in the context of the story… not so much. I've made an effort to build upon what has happened in the previous chapters, particularly on Zexion's end, but I'm still worried it is too sudden.

At the same time, I feel like things have been dragged out enough as is. I'm not sure if I made the right decision given how… severe this chapter is in terms of Zexion's mental state. I think it makes sense but I also know I've been involved in this story too long to be objective.

On a smaller, logistical note, I've started going through the story and doing small edits. It's nothing major; mostly those silly grammar and wording mistakes. I have not found anything major yet, although I haven't gotten through all the chapters yet. I will likely upload the edited work with the next chapter—which hopefully is sooner than later, although I can't make any promises.

Thanks in advance for your patience.

Upcoming Chapter Preview:

_ "How long has this been going on?"_

_ Zexion still did not look at him, eyes closing instead. "What does it matter-"_

_ "How long?!" the demand echoed through the room._

_ "Long enough," was the eventual response, and then an almost shrill, tired laugh. "Too long. I do not know. I lost count. I never thought that would happen. But I have. Is that not odd? How something like this can become so ordinary?"_


	7. Promise

Title: The Flip Side

**Warnings: Violence, non-graphic rape, language, and major screwing with canon.**

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the creation of Square Enix and Disney.

Notes: Yes, I am well aware that it has been… well, suffice to say, it has been a very long time.

I had hoped to get this chapter out earlier, and I apologize for how long it has taken. My only excuse (besides the usual ones) is that writing this chapter was very, very difficult. This story has always been dark, but this chapter goes further than any of the previous ones. Even now, after many, many drafts, I am not sure it does justice to the situation.

It likely does not.

On a completely different note though, I know that in the… very long time it has taken me to get this out, there has been more information on the Apprentices in Radiant Garden thanks to the release of _Birth by Sleep_. None of that gets taken into consideration here, as it will likely destroy what little is left of my sanity to integrate the two (not that I even think it is possible at this point).

**VII: Promise**

He was shaken out of the darkness by a scream.

It might have been real, but logic (and an insane amount of cynicism, but given the circumstances it was totally justified) said that it probably wasn't. Either way, it was hard to tell given a present reality where very little seemed to be real. And when the little was turned out to be something else entirely… well, it was no wonder why Riku was starting to get a little suspicious when it came to distinguishing between what was there and what was just in his head, although _some_ people would argue that he was never very good at that in the first place.

Riku tended to ignore said people, especially when they turned out to be manipulative bastards who happened to be manipulating him straight into a trap. Not that he was bitter or anything.

But then, that was exactly the problem. Now it wasn't that he _wanted_ to be bitter, but at least bitter was a nice, _normal_ reaction to being betrayed. And while normal was the last word he would use to describe his life thus far, even he knew that there was something seriously wrong with the way he felt now—which was, in short, one hundred percent _confused_ over the fact that he was still alive.

Again, 'alive' was the last word he would use to describe this cursed half-existence, but it was more than he had expected to have. Like it or not, he had known that his days were up as soon as Xehanort knew he was onto the Nobody's act. This in turn meant that sooner than later Xehanort was going to destroy him, and he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.

It was a pretty fatalistic way of looking at things, but after all this time Riku had at least learned to be realistic. Of course it was a lesson he had learned a few years too late, and he had a feeling he hadn't learned it that well because even though he knew there was no point, he had prepared himself for a fight that he knew he couldn't win. He'd justified it by saying that he didn't want to give in without a fight, and although he wasn't sure if even he believed that reason, he prepared himself for the proverbial losing battle…

… only to wake up to find that there was no one around to fight with.

If it had been a cartoon, there would have been crickets chirping in the background. Seeing as this was reality, there was only dead silence. Riku had even gotten desperate enough to call out the Heartless's name, certain that would be enough to draw the creature out if it was hiding, only to be met with nothing. No taunt, no laugh, no sudden blow from behind that would send him on his merry way to that light at the end of the tunnel. For what seemed like hours, he had stood there on edge, ready to act, ready to _die_, and _he was still waiting_.

At the time, it was easy to write off as being nothing. A fluke, really. He told himself that there were many reasons why Xehanort hadn't offed him yet. Maybe the Heartless wasn't quite ready, or maybe the Heartless didn't feel like crushing him out of existence just yet. Both perfectly legitimate reasons that, if he thought about it for more than half a second, made absolutely no sense given that Xehanort wasn't the kind of guy to put off maiming and death. _Especially_ if Riku posed any kind of threat (a hilarious concept, really)—no, the Heartless would bear down on him with everything darkness had to offer, and yet-

Yet he was still here.

It had made even less sense the second time he had awoken, only to find himself again. By the third time he had run out of half-baked explanations that sounded more like excuses than reason, and he was forced to confront the simple truth: something was wrong, but he just didn't know _what_.

That question affected everything even as nothing else seemed to change. He would come back to himself, confused by his continued existence, and continued to see Xehanort's memories of the past. He didn't know what that was, but then he didn't know why he saw those images in the first place. It made him wonder if he was supposed to do something with that information. After all, in the fairytales didn't mysterious information like this always play a role at some convenient point (i.e., right before the hero got roasted by an angry dragon)? Yet so far, the visions of Ansem the Wise's six idiot apprentices were just interesting back-story, rather than anything of actual use.

Riku knew there was one person who could tell him what those flashbacks meant (seeing how the bastard was one of said idiot apprentices), but that would require actually speaking to the Nobody. Needless to say, that was no longer happening. Riku hadn't gone back to see the Nobody since confronting him with the truth. It was the one thing that _had_ changed, and he meant for it to stay that way. He never should have trusted the Nobody. A part of him had always known that Zexion would betray him, but he had ignored it in his desperation. And now he was paying for it.

Except that… he wasn't. Not as he had expected to, at least. That was the problem, the fact that he could not ignore. Nothing had happened to him since he had last spoken to the Nobody, and he knew that something _should_ have. Because Zexion would have told Xehanort, and Xehanort would have-

And again, there was that doubt. The quiet yet overwhelming doubt in the back of his head. Every time he tried to remind himself that the Nobody had never planned on working with him, it would sneak into his mind, replacing the anger with the mind-wracking paranoia that maybe… _maybe_….

Maybe _what_? He couldn't afford such doubts, not at a time like this. But he couldn't be angry anymore either, although whether it was because it didn't matter anymore or because he just wasn't capable of it….

The latter point was just another one of those things on a very long list that he didn't want to confront. But if he was to be honest with himself, he knew that he was changing. It was difficult to describe how that change was occurring, but it could not be ignored anymore either. He just… he couldn't feel as much anymore. Even when he was awake, he couldn't really bring himself to feel anger or fear or any of those things. Mostly he felt tired, and while a part of that might have been that hopelessness, he knew it was not just that. It was as if he was not capable of _feeling_ such things without concerted effort. Everything, from staying awake to feeling emotions to simply _living_, was getting harder, and that could only mean one thing.

He was losing himself. This was the only truth he knew now, and it terrified him.

What he didn't know was _why_ it was happening—was it because the Heartless was getting stronger? It seemed the most logical explanation, but if that was the case then why hadn't Xehanort destroyed him already? The Nobody had always made it clear that if Xehanort found out about these moments of consciousness (useless as they were), the Heartless wouldn't hesitate to get rid of him. And if that was true, then this was the perfect opportunity for the Heartless to do just that.

So why hadn't he?

It was always possible that the threat was just another one of the Nobody's lies, but somehow Riku didn't think that was the case. Xehanort didn't have any reason to keep him around, and even though he didn't know how he could be a threat to anyone, he _did_ know the Heartless. Xehanort wasn't the kind to hold back; hell, the Heartless was the kind of psychopath who would use a nuke to kill an ant. Riku wasn't a threat, not right now, but Xehanort wouldn't risk letting him become one. Not after Hollow Bastion, where in a fleeting moment of sanity when Riku had realized that it probably _wasn't_ a good idea to let the Heartless massacre his friends, he had actually managed to stop the Heartless. Sure, it hadn't lasted long and he'd been useless after that, but Xehanort wouldn't dare let him live if the Heartless thought he could do it again.

So then why was he still here?

_You think you know what is happening? You know _nothing_ of what I have gone through when I could have informed Xehanort of your brief moments of awareness, and yet you dare to play martyr with _me_?_

Those words weren't so easy to dismiss anymore, especially when those tired explanations he came up with explained nothing. He had tried to tell himself that Zexion's goal was to confuse him and to make him doubt what he knew to be truth. And it made sense (one of the few things that still did), and he could almost dismiss the issue until he remembered the look on the Nobody's face. Because as easy as it was to set aside the Nobody's words, he just couldn't get that one image out of his head.

It wasn't a look a hatred or anger. Well, there was a little anger (or at least the semblance of it), but mostly it was… something else. He didn't know and so he tried to tell himself that he didn't care either, but for something that he claimed not to care about it was sure haunting him. That look, that split-second look, was making him wonder if he was wrong, if maybe the Nobody—

If maybe Zexion was telling the truth.

It would be Sora all over again, where he had been so convinced of the truth that he couldn't see what was right in front of him. But this was different, he told himself. This wasn't Sora, someone he should have trusted. Sora had never tried to kill him, or to warp his mind, or to manipulate him into working for the other side. Zexion wasn't Sora, and he certainly didn't owe the Nobody the benefit of the doubt.

And yet despite that innate trust between them, he knew that he needed the Nobody in more ways than one. Of course there was the entire helping him—or rather, pretending to—figure out how to defeat Xehanort, but it was more than that. Zexion _anchored _him to reality, and at a time when Riku couldn't tell the difference between what was real and what was not, that sort of thing was important. Maybe Zexion didn't know how to give a straight answer and maybe Riku couldn't trust anything that came out of the guy's mouth, but at least Riku knew that if he was standing in front of the Nobody, it meant that he was still _real_.

There was also the way the Nobody did it. Sure, he hated how the bastard talked down to him and made him feel like an idiot. But that was what he deserved, and more importantly it was what he needed after the sheer number of fuck ups he'd accomplished in the span of a month. He needed someone to tell him the truth, no matter how horrible it was, and to make him accept—

_And yet you could never accept it, could you? _the voice that sounded disturbingly like Xehanort asked, silky and mocking and all too knowing. _You claim to want the truth, but you close yourself away every time someone tries to speak it._

He didn't bother answering, partly because he didn't want to have an argument with himself (especially one that he had a feeling he was going to lose) but mostly because all coherent thought was abruptly cut off by another scream. Unlike the last one, this was closer… more real. Real enough, in fact, to reach through the darkness and pull him right back into reality.

It wasn't nearly as gentle as it sounded. Whereas the other times it felt like he was… floating back into his own consciousness, this time it felt like he was slamming right into a brick wall. The sudden transition from his mind to his body was so wrenching that he nearly wanted to vomit, and he nearly did so when he finally managed to open his eyes and see the truth he had spent so long denying.

* * *

For what seemed like hours, Riku sad there and stared. It was an entirely useless gesture, which meant he was sticking with his usual pattern of being useless. Or worse than useless because the scene before him was not the product of being useless, but of really, _really_ fucking up.

"Oh god."

He barely even realized that he was speaking. He barely realized a lot of things. He was aware, in a distant sort of way, that he was naked, and that he was not the only one. But he could not take that next step of comprehending what it actually meant. His brain had shut down, and he could feel bile in the back of his throat demanding to get out one way or the other. The words themselves were no more than a horrified whisper, barely louder than the harsh breathing of the person beneath him. But they echoed through the room, damning him over and over again as slowly, reluctantly, dark blue eyes opened to look at him.

The effect was chilling in its contrast. Riku was used to those eyes being sharp and discerning, but now they were cloudy and unfocused. Riku could read confusion in them as the Nobody visibly struggled to figure out what was going on. A few blinks eventually erased the haziness, but nothing could get rid of that hollowed, deadened look.

It was a look that one associated with complete and utter loss. Riku was very familiar with that look.

"Oh. It's you."

He couldn't help but flinch, as if each word was a physical blow when in reality they were apathetic and sluggish, as if Zexion was speaking words for the first time in a long while. Riku didn't respond, partly because he didn't know what to say and mostly because he didn't think he had the right to say anything. The silence was finally broken when Zexion said in a voice so calm that it was borderline psychotic:

"Get off of me, Riku."

It was not a command but not quite a plea, and it was more than enough to send him flying off the bed in a scene that might have been funny if it wasn't for everything _else_. He practically threw himself away, and after landing on the floor awkwardly he scrambled to put some distance between them. When his legs didn't work he had to forcibly drag himself away, a task that was made all the more difficult by the sheer need to get as far away as possible from what _he_ had done.

As he moved, he tried to think of something to say but his words, like his actions thus far, meant nothing. He had nothing to say, and even if he had his voice was not working because oh _god_, what could he say? No words would make this right, especially coming from him, but if he did not speak then he would scream and scream and _scream_ until he woke up from this nightmare.

And so he tried desperately to form words. Nothing came out. Instead, his mind continued to open and close as if he was a suffocating fish, which again might have been funny if everything about the current situation wasn't so _wrong_. All the while, Zexion just continued to lie there. The Nobody did not take any amusement from his frenzied attempts to get away; hell, the Nobody had not even seemed to _notice_, staring instead at the ceiling. Or at least in its general direction because even Riku could tell that Zexion was not seeing much of anything right now. The Nobody had not even moved beyond what was necessary to speak those few words. Belatedly, Riku realized that Zexion had barely reacted when Riku had taken the Heartless's place, not even when the darkness binding those pale wrists had dissipated. From where he was he could still see that those wrists were a lurid red, as if the darkness had burned what it touched, and—

"Well?" Zexion said abruptly, his voice dry and sardonic but a mere ghost to what it once was. "Are you not pleased? Here is your evidence of the betrayal you have so painfully suffered. Is it everything you could have hoped for?"

A sound rather like a whimper escaped his lips, and a smile twisted on the Nobody's face. "Not to your liking, I take it. There is little else I can do to rectify that though, although we both know of someone who will be more than pleased to accommodate you. I expect you will have to go away for that, but never you worry that he will ensure that I suffer enough so that your tragic existence is not in vain."

"Zexion." The word was small and pathetic, desperate to intervene but having no force behind it.

"Yes, yes, that is my name." Zexion sounded almost amused. But amusement quickly turned to confusion as the Nobody repeated after him, as if trying to remember something important. "Zexion. We do not pick our names, you realize. They are given. As Nobodies, we have little right to choose anything, now do we?"

Riku shook his head, as if trying still to deny what he was witnessing. It was painful, watching Zexion sway between these two polar opposites—one moment the Nobody was mocking cruelty, the next this… broken, twisted, _lost_ creature. He hadn't meant for this to happen, and now that it had, he once again proved that he could not handle the consequences of his own actions. He wanted to recoil from the scene before him, but somehow he forced himself not to run, but to stand and inch closer, as if approaching a wounded animal that was in so much pain it could no longer tell the difference between friend and enemy.

Considering what Riku's own inability had cost the Nobody, he no longer knew which of those categories he fell into.

"You…" his voice was increasingly becoming higher pitched. "_Him…._"

Zexion blinked, tilting his head ever so slightly and inadvertently revealing a mess of bruises on his neck, as if someone had tried to strangle him. "That? What of it? You already knew about it. I believe that was what you were blathering on about the last time, was it not?"

The words were flat, and each was a punch to the gut. "I didn't-"

He didn't even know what he was trying to protest, but it didn't matter as Zexion cut of him off. "Of course you did not. You, like so many others, see only what you wish to see. He is much the same. He sees me as someone I have not been in quite some time. I do not really understand what he wants, or what motivates him to act in such curious ways. But I suppose it does not matter for he will take what he wants at his leisure, and leave nothing in his wake. But that is what a Nobody is in the end, is it not? Perhaps he seeks only to hurry the inevitable. Either way, I am in no position to stop him. I accept that, although I do rather hope he can quicken his pace. It is too much, you see. Do inform him of that for me, will you? I would do it myself, but he cares little for what I have to say."

Riku wasn't sure how it was possible for him to feel worse, but with each calm sentence it was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. But then it managed to get worse still, like the train was slamming right into him as Zexion's voice finally seemed to crack at the end, no longer able to carry on the charade, and allowing Riku to ask, "What happened to you?"

Zexion swallowed, obviously trying to regain his composure before he finally said quietly, "I would think it obvious."

And it was. That was precisely the problem. Now that he saw it, he realized that it was so _obvious_. A part of him tried to protest—there was no way he could have known; it wasn't like Zexion ever said anything. The Nobody had even tried to hide it, but then that was it, wasn't it? He had long suspected that something was happening ever since he saw the heavy bruising on that pale skin, and... _fuck_.

"How long has this been going on?"

Zexion shifted ever so slightly, in what might have been a shrug or just strained breathing. "What does it matter?"

"How long?!" The demand echoed through the room, and he tried not to shudder at Zexion's slight flinch.

He didn't really want to know, but he had to. He needed to know how long he had allowed this to—no. No, it wasn't as simple as letting this happen. He did this. It was as simple as that. He _did_ this by throwing those hateful words without stopping to think what was really happening, leaving Zexion to deal with the Heartless on his own, abandoning yet another person who had needed his help.

"Long enough." And then, an almost shrill, tired laugh. "Too long. I do not know. I lost count. I never thought that would happen. But I have. Is that not odd? How something like this could become so ordinary?"

By this point, Riku wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend that this wasn't happening. Instead, he kept his eyes open and fixated on Zexion. He owed the guy that much at least, and he wouldn't hide from this again. "Zexion…."

It was as far as he could go. But again, it didn't seem to matter as Zexion didn't really seem to be listening to him anyway. Hell, Zexion barely seemed _lucid_ as the Nobody continued, "I do remember the first time, at least. That is something, is it not? You were still around then. If you had not, it might not have happened. But that is nothing new. You really are quite maddening, I hope you realize. I rather think the world will end before you truly understand anything. I am likely correct. It is a shame. But what of it? I suppose it does not matter anymore. There were never many options, and you work with what you have, but this truly was a poor hand to play with. Not that I am in any position to complain."

If it had been anyone else, Riku might have been fooled. But having gotten to know Zexion—as well as anyone could know a person who excelled in concealing truths behind half-truth—he knew that the words that would have sounded calm from anyone else were really just a ruse. Zexion _never_ spoke like this, in a way that could only be described as… babbling. Not the calm, composed Nobody who knew everything about everyone, and never let anyone know more than they absolutely had to.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palm but that pain was nothing compared to what he was seeing. "I… I didn't know." The denial sounded even feebler than it had in his head, and yet he couldn't help but continue, "I didn't know what he was doing to you. If I had, I wouldn't… I wouldn't have said those things, believe me. I would have _done_ something about it, I would have-"

He was met only by an incredulous laugh. "And what, pray tell, would you have done?"

"I don't know!" He was yelling now, but he couldn't contain himself anymore and Zexion didn't seem to care anyway. Why did this sort of thing always happen to him? Why could he never protect the people around him, instead of causing them more pain?! "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me _say_ those things, why did you… you should have told me! You should have… if you had, I could have helped you. I could have _done_ something, I could-"

"Wrong," Zexion said, saying what they both knew but only one was capable of facing. "You would not have been able to do anything. Not as you are."

"You don't know that."

Even now, Riku didn't want to accept it. Maybe it was because he needed to believe this wasn't entirely his fault for not seeing what was happening. He had been so wrapped up in his own troubles that he had blinded himself to reality, and still he could not accept it. Was that why he was trying to push the blame onto Zexion, for not telling him what he should have already known? Was this how he had justified attacking Sora not so long ago?

What the hell was wrong with him?

Zexion answered, although even he could not answer that particular question. "You cannot even save yourself."

He shook his head, avoiding eye contact with Zexion. "That's not the point." He wasn't sure who he was responding to at this point.

"To you, I suppose it is not," Zexion conceded, although his tone implied not that he agreed but that he just didn't have the strength to argue with fools anymore. "You seem rather more interested in saving others than yourself, although one could argue that the two are inextricably linked. Perhaps that is why you fail so often? It matters not. You are wasting your time here. There was never anything left for you to save, you see."

Something inside of him snapped at this, and he slammed his hands down on the bed. It wasn't the most effective of gestures, and he wasn't even sure why he was mad in the first place, but it was enough to at least force a look of almost-surprise (and _fear_) from Zexion as he yelled, "Don't say that! How can you even say that?! Don't say this is a waste of time, that… what the hell are you trying to say? That you're not worth saving? Is that really what you think?!"

"Yes."

He should have been prepared for that answer. Zexion certainly seemed to think so, continuing relentlessly, "Why are you so surprised? I thought I disgusted you. You made that perfectly clear the last time we spoke, did you not?"

Riku had almost forgotten how good Zexion was at using his own words against him, but somehow this was worse than all those other times. Maybe it was because no matter how much he hated himself for betraying Sora and Kairi, and not to mention plunging multiple worlds into darkness, at least those things had been… fixed. No thanks to him, frankly, but at least there wasn't any lasting damage to anyone except himself. And he deserved that.

But this? He didn't know if it was possible to fix this. Even if Zexion claimed to not have feelings, to not care, to not _matter_… it was stupid. No one standing here, at this precise moment, would think that. No one would believe that this did not matter, but Zexion did. Zexion seemed, honest to god, to believe that what was happening was of no concern to _anyone_. And was it any wonder after what he had said? As he stood there, frozen, those hateful, spiteful, _stupid_ words he had said at their last meeting continued to echo through his mind, damning him over and over again.

He deserved it. He would not deny that. Yet even though the self-hatred, he could tell that Zexion was trying to make him give up.

He was not going to. Not this time, not _again_.

"I see the past." He surprised himself with how calm the words were, considering how they weren't the ones he had wanted to say. But he had needed to say… no, _do _something before the silence made him completely lose what was left of his sanity. Some people—or one in particular—would say that it was too late for that, but he couldn't let himself believe that anymore. He knew now that this wasn't about him anymore.

On some level, he knew that before this… he had believed that if he gave up, it wouldn't really matter. That maybe it shouldn't matter. Sure, Sora and Kairi would have been sad about it, but they would have bounced back from it. And maybe he had even convinced himself that they would be better off without him, that maybe it was a good thing if he wasn't there to mess up their lives all over again.

It was ironic then, that he couldn't stand to let Zexion engage in the same kind of self-loathing. Ironic and hypocritical, but Riku had long accepted his shortcomings to the point that he couldn't see what benefit his existence could have to anyone. And maybe he was right, but he was also wrong. Leaving Zexion behind to the Heartless was a direct result of his trying to run away. He had thought himself justified at the time, focusing on the other's deceptions rather than his own. But he couldn't hide from the truth anymore, and so the only thing left was to confront it straight on.

"I think it is the past, at least. I'm not really sure. But it has you and him and… others. Like those two Nobodies at Castle Oblivion. And there's another Ansem… the _real_ Ansem, I think, but I don't know what any of it means. I know I should have told you sooner, but I wasn't… I wasn't sure, and then-"

He stopped, a rising sense of desperation bubbling up inside of him. Zexion still wasn't looking at him; the guy barely seemed to be paying attention. Even though he knew he was one to talk, he couldn't help but say rather desperately, "Come on, you can't give up. You have to help me."

"Help you?" Zexion finally looked at him, and those dark blue eyes were as flat and empty as they always were but for some reason it was different this time. Instead of the usual curiosity, or that contemplative look that seemed to be gauging his usefulness in some grander scheme, for the first time it truly was—

Nothing.

"Yes," he said, managing to stutter a one-syllable word. He swallowed, trying to calm himself before saying, "We can still do this. If you… if you help me, then I can-"

"You expect me to help you?" Zexion asked again, not noticing his flinch as the guy looked straight through him. "I cannot help you. That is the difference between you and I; I harbor no delusions as to my inabilities, which as you can see are many. I cannot help myself, and therefore I cannot help anyone else. I do not see what you expect me to do. Everyone seems to have such… lofty expectations of me, but honestly I am failing to see how such expectations can arise. I have told you, and I have told him—I have no answers. I do not know what either of you are speaking of, and I never claimed to. Now Ienzo; he, perhaps, has some answers. At least he will think that he does. Likely he does not, but practicality was never high on his list of priorities. Besides, he is not here to answer such questions."

He blinked, confused by this last point. "But Ienzo… you're him, aren't you?"

That was obviously the wrong question to ask as Zexion _cringed_, his words losing any lingering semblance of poise as sheer terror seemed to take over. "No. _No_, I am not him, I am not _Ienzo_, I am _not_, I am-"

Zexion seemed on the verge of a panic attack, and in desperation Riku reached out to grab his hand. The reaction was almost automatic, a throwback to happier days when he, Sora, and Kairi used to take each other by the hand when they were scared by something stupid, and it occurred to him that it probably wasn't the best thing to do to someone who was freaking out like this. But he couldn't think about that right now, and the only thing he could do at this point was to act on instinct, and to hope that he would get through..

"Okay," he said. He didn't want to speak so loudly, but it was the only way to ensure that Zexion was able to hear as he repeated in what he could only hope was a calming voice. "Okay, you're not Ienzo. I get it. Alright? I get it."

Somehow this was enough to get Zexion to look at him, eyes still wide but slowly losing some of the prior terror as the Nobody asked, "Why?"

"I want to help you." He didn't wait to let the words sink in, knowing that even now, Zexion would probably throw them back into his face. Not that he deserved any less, but this just wasn't the time. "I know it doesn't mean anything, and that's it too late, but I'm not going to let this happen to you anymore. Not again. I'm not going to just stand aside and let this happen."

Zexion shook his head, obviously not willing to believe anything he had to say. "You did not answer my question. I asked why. What do you want from me? You must want something from me. Everyone seems to want something away from me, the Heartless especially. Will you do the same? Will you also take and take and take until there is nothing left for me to give you? If you would, I must admit that there is very little for you to have. But if you insist then I suggest you get on with it before the Heartless returns, as he leaves very little in his wake."

"That's not what I want." His words were a lot calmer than he felt as he made a promise he did not know he could keep, but would die trying to keep if it came down to it. "I don't want anything from you. Really. I just want to help you. Please, _believe_ me. _I will help you._"

"Why? You must have a reason. You _must-_"

"… because." He knew he had to say it; empty promises were no substitute, and so he swallowed and said, "I'm so-"

His throat suddenly constricted and the words choked into a sudden halt. Zexion ripped his hand away, those dark blue eyes once again wide with fear as both knew immediately what was happening. Riku tried to speak, but then the darkness swelled up within him, swallowing his words as tendrils snaked through his mind and dragged him into the abyss.

He found himself staring right at Xehanort.

Zexion was no longer anywhere to be seen. The stark white walls of the almost empty room had been replaced by… whatever _this_ was—a place that was here yet not, between reality and delusion, one step away from both existence and imprisonment. And more terrifying than any of that was Xehanort, who stood before him now.

He renewed his struggles as the Heartless surveyed him, expecting a harsh, depreciating laugh for his efforts. But Xehanort didn't seem interested in his plight, those orange eyes burning furiously as the Heartless glared at him. There was some surprise, but mostly anger and hatred, and in one cold, callous movement, Xehanort bore down on him, tearing through the fragile defenses he tried to put up but were never anything to begin with. He yelled, in rage or despair or a little bit of both, but Xehanort didn't stop. The act was so easy, it was almost perfunctory, but Riku knew better because of the rage that the Heartless did not bother to hide. Rage, he knew, would be….

He couldn't let that happen. He _couldn't_ let Zexion suffer again for his mistakes, for his incompetence, for _him_. And so where he might have stopped before, he tried one last, desperate time to break free of the darkness. Instead of giving in as he always did, he pushed _back_, using sheer determination to try and drag himself towards the increasingly distant light.

Riku wasn't sure who was more surprised by this, and the fact that the Heartless did not expect it was almost enough for him to make it. The grip on him seemed to loosen, and if there was actually ground to walk on the sudden lack of resistance would have made him fall on his face. Instead, he was practically _launched_ towards the light, but before he could actually reach it, Xehanort must have snapped out of the temporary shock. Tendrils of darkness wrapped around his ankle, and the pain as he was yanked backwards felt like the bone had snapped, but somehow it didn't matter. Or at least, it didn't matter as the light disappeared, and he was finally forced out of his own body and back into a prison of his own making.

His last coherent though as the darkness fell upon him like a starving animal was that he wished he'd had the chance to finish apologizing.

* * *

_"Well, everyone, it's been fun. But I'm going to say what we're all thinking—we're dead."_

_ "Don't be so melodramatic," Dilan replies, but it's half-hearted at best as he stares blankly at the glass paperweight on Ansem's desk. "It is not as if he knows."_

_ "Are you fucking _kidding_ me? Of course he knows! It's the only explanation. We are so fucking _fucked_."_

_ "Shut up," Even hisses. "It's been three weeks and he hasn't found out, has he? So just shut up before he walks in and figures it out from your incessant babbling."_

_ "Oh give it up already," Braig snaps. "Why else would he call us here? It's not to give us a pat on the head and some sea salt ice cream, I can tell you that."_

_ At this point, Aeleus, always the voice of reason (and hence often silent) points out, "But how would he know then?"_

_ "I do not see how any of this matters," Ienzo says suddenly, looking up at the rest of them. He had also been staring at Ansem's paperweight, although with the demeanor of one who was convinced the object would suddenly come alive and devour him whole. "He approved of the plans. He must have known we would not just sit around and do nothi-"_

_ "Yeah, we all know he approved of the plans, munchkin." Ienzo practically snarls at Braig, having always detested that particular nickname, but the man just ignores it as he continues, 'But would he approve of what we did? Somehow I doubt it. If there was any chance that he would be totally fine with it, Xehanort here wouldn't have wanted to hide any of this, now would you?"_

_ He had not expected to be brought into the conversation like this, although he knew it was really only a matter of time. As soon as the six of them had been called up to Ansem's study, the others had started squabbling like schoolchildren. And like schoolchildren, they were now engaged in the age-old tradition of finding someone to blame. Naturally that onus would fall upon himself, the only one of them all that was brave enough to take responsibility for their actions. It was good that he had never bothered to trust them, or to let them in on everything he knew. Sometimes, he suspected that some of them had figured out, but he doubted that any of them knew the _full_ picture. If they had worked together, piecing together what they knew, they might have figured out what his experiments were really meant to do. But they were competitors by nature; cooperation did not come easy, and it was difficult to let down one's defenses long enough to come to any meaningful conclusion._

_ All the better for him, then, although at times like these he found himself wishing he was acting alone. It would just be so much easier…._

_ Their attention is turned to him now; Braig always was good at rallying the troops at the most inopportune times. So he fixes a smile on his face, wondering briefly how fake it is but deciding that likely none of them care, and says in as comforting a tone as he can manage, "I never had any intention of hiding our work. I simply wanted there to be more data before we alerted Master Ansem to all of this. What is the point of bothering him if we have nothing to present, or if our work seems to be going nowhere? This is simple efficiency, nothing more. It is not as if we are acting in secret. As Ienzo points out, Ansem-"_

_ "Master Ansem," Ienzo corrects, not looking at all pleased to be named. He never understood why the boy is so reluctant to be acknowledged by him, but this is not the time to ask. Although these days, there is rarely an opportunity to ask with Aeleus constantly looking over the youngest apprentice's shoulder—more so now, then ever before._

_ As confrontation is not ideal at the moment, he nods and says—almost through gritted teeth, "Of course. Pardon my slip. I meant no disrespect."_

_ "It is a frequent _'slip'_ of yours these days." Even gives him a _look_, searching but not at all knowing. For none of them know what he wants, even if they claim to make up the best that this world has to offer. "Are you hiding something from us as well, Xehanort?"_

_ "And why would we think that?" he replies, the words as smooth as Even's were brittle and clipped. "Are we not all in this together?"_

_ "Is that what you call this?" Dilan asks, but he obviously does not expect an answer. The question is more than enough; the others are glancing at each other warily, although careful to avoid all eye contact with Xehanort. Inside he scowls at this, as this is precisely what he cannot have happening. He needs them to be divided, waiting to be led to places that Ansem cannot possibly take them._

_ He needs them to need _him_._

_ But before he can seek to reassure them once again, Ansem enters—an understatement, really, as the king slams open the door, causing them all to practically jump out of their seats. Their faces run the gauntlet from shame to fear to perfect neutrality, and each and every one of them is silent as the man storms past them to his desk. Ansem does not sit though; he stands there, his hands clutched around papers that Xehanort quickly recognizes as his own notes._

_ For the longest time Ansem does not speak. Ansem does not even look at them, as if he cannot stand the sight of any of them, his eyes tightly closed and his breathing harsh and angry. Xehanort can see that the other apprentices want to slink away and escape before the king can come back to life, but not one of them is brave enough to attempt to move. And so they all stand there, waiting for someone to make the first step, and for the sake of moving things forward Xehanort is prepared to be that one. But before he can open his mouth, Ansem says quietly, "How long has this been going on?"_

_ No one answers._

_ Ansem looks up at them, his eyes snapping open and flashing with anger and something akin to disappointment. Xehanort is quite familiar with that expression now, but not for the almost yell of, "How long has this… this _foolery_ been going on?!"_

_ At this point Xehanort knows that no one is going to answer if he does not, and tries to say soothingly, "Not long, Master Ansem. We would not think to act against your-"_

_ Ansem turns on him, cutting his explanation off with a sharp, "Do not speak! Do not… no." The words all too quickly lose their strength, and the king collapses into his seat with a shake of the head. "No. I do not wish to know. I do not wish to…."_

_ If Xehanort had cared for the man still, he might have felt sorry. Ansem seemed to be in genuine pain despite suffering no wounds, his demeanor a defeated and broken man. But now Xehanort feels only shame. How he could ever have wanted to follow such a weak old man, he does not know. He does not know what Ansem could have done to convince him that he wanted acceptance in this world, from this _man_, and he resents and almost hates the man for twisting him so. Especially now, when he knows that Ansem never cared for him, and likely only helped him to use him. He will not allow himself to be used again though, and if the only way to avoid such a fate from happening again is to use others, he is willing to make that sacrifice. After all, there is little sacrifice of himself involved, and he is beginning to understand why Ansem found it all too easy to use him so._

_ "How could you do this?" The question is not angry, but simply sad and confused and above all, pitiful. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the others seem to hang their head in shame, so easily brought down by their emotions. "I do not understand how you could do this."_

_ "We were only carrying out the research that you yourself-" Dilan starts to say, but an angry look from Ansem stops him cold._

_ "Research that I _stopped_," Ansem reminds coldly, obviously displeased about being reminded of his own happy role in this situation. "Research that I stopped because it was too dangerous. To this world, the people, ourselves—knowing that, why did you restart this research again? What could have possessed you all to go against basic common sense?!"_

_ "But… the plans… the lab…" Ienzo stammers. "Why would you approve them if you never intended us to act?"_

_ For a moment, the king looks almost trapped by the question. Xehanort wants to smirk, and perhaps a ghost of a mocking smile crosses his lips because Ansem transitions sharply from broken old man to angry dictator, "That means nothing! Those plans were a mistake. Approving of them was my mistake, and I take responsibility for that and whatever you six seemed to take from it. And so I will say nothing more of this, as long as it ends here. Do you understand me?! It _ends_ here."_

_ No more is said, but no more needs to be said at this point. Slowly, one by one, each of the apprentices bows and slinks out of the room like reprimanded children. Dilan, Braig, Ienzo and Aeleus, and finally Even leave. He watches them go, and waits for Ansem to acknowledge him._

_ He does not need to wait long; as soon as the door closes behind the blond. Ansem is still seated, rubbing his temples, and finally the man says without looking up to acknowledge him, "I have been… reading your papers. You signed them under my name."_

_ "Did I?" he asks lightly. Although if one was to be completely honest, he would have to admit that he did not… really know why he had done such a thing. True, the original reports were started by the old man himself, but he could have signed them under his own name. He could have given himself the credit, for research that was truly groundbreaking. Why let the king take the credit when he was too scared to do the work?_

_ "You did."_

_ Xehanort can hear the distrust in his voice. At least he deserves it now, although somehow it still… hurts, even though that man in turn deserves _nothing_. He searches for an answer, one that is close enough to the truth that it would not seem quite like a lie, but then what is the truth? The two of them are well-versed enough in falsity that perhaps there is no reason to deviate from prior pattern. "I meant no disrespect. I only sought to give you credit-"_

_ "Credit? Blame is more like it!" The papers are practically thrown at him as Ansem again stands, yelling, "I read these… these _reports_! What were you trying to do? And getting the others involved in this… what has happened to you?!"_

_ The answer is on the tip of his tongue, begging to be said, but he has more self-control than that. He does not even blink as the papers seem to float down like the snow he reads about in books, although of course there is no such thing in this picture-perfect world. A world, so perfect on the outside, that it has become absurdly simple to tear it down from the inside until nothing is left._

_ But he may not have the chance, if things progress in such a fashion. Why was it that everyone felt an incessant need to get in his way? It really was quite exasperating._

_ "Who told you?"_

_ He is no longer surprised that he has the nerve to ask—to stand _up_ for himself, as no one else on this wretched world will do that for him—but Ansem certainly is. The king actually gapes at him for a few seconds, before quickly replacing surprise with that mask of indifference and deceit. "What makes you think anyone-"_

_ "Do not give me that. You owe me _this_ much, at least," he replies. It takes everything to keep the anger from overwhelming him; even now, the old man thinks him so gullible? They would soon see who the gullible one is. "Someone must have told you. Who? Even?" Nothing at the mention of his greatest competitor. "Braig?" Again, nothing about Ansem's first apprentice. He is not sure who of the others might have spoken, and so he picks names at random, saying the first that comes to mind. "Ienzo?"_

_ "Enough, Xehanort. Blaming your peers solves nothing," Ansem cuts off sharply, but Xehanort is barely listening now as the old man blathers on, under the mistaken impression that he cares enough to listen. Instead, he is trying to process this information. Of them all, he would not have expected—_

Who said I ever trusted you to begin with?

_ He smiles inwardly, realizing his mistake. Obviously he had underestimated the boy. He should not have. Only someone skilled at manipulation could have convinced Ansem to approve of the plans for the lab in the first place. But somehow, despite the way Ienzo always kept him at a distance, he had never expected those abilities to be used against him. He had always assumed he had something to… offer to the boy, something to keep that keen mind interested when Ansem would have rendered it stagnant. But he had been mistaken, and like so many others Ienzo had betrayed him as well. Did the boy put all the blame on him? How much had he told?_

_ He could not worry too much about that though. The infection that the boy represented was only the start. Given the chance, just as they had today, he knows that the other apprentices would all run back to the foolish old king for so long as the man continued to exist. Their loyalties were divided, but as this incident demonstrated so aptly, were still squarely in favor of one._

_ As that one was not himself, he would simply have to rid himself of the competition. To remove the temptation to betray._

_ He must get rid of Ansem._

_ It was such a calming thought, considering how it was one he had never truly entertained. Certainly he had thought of it, but he had never quite anticipated having to go to such lengths. As much as he detested the man now, there was still… before, it was simply difficult to contemplate actually killing him. Perhaps it was that eager desire to please, or something vaguely deeper, but it mattered not anymore. He was tired of this, the lies and the deception, of being used to protect a world he cared nothing for. Ever since he arrived at this world, he had cared naught for its inhabitants—and of those fools, only one had ever purported to care for him. But he knows now the truth, that Ansem never cared for him, and he owes no lingering obligation to the man any longer. He will treat the man as he was once treated, a protective measure to ensure that he is never used so again._

_ It is only fair._

_ As for the boy, he resolves not to say anything to Ienzo of this. Let the boy think that he does not know. Let the boy think that he is safe. He will show him, but there is no need for haste. For now, he can continue bow and scrape and smile through gritted teeth, and he does all of the above before excusing himself from the room. Let Ansem be satisfied with that. Let the other apprentices think that he had given in. Let Ienzo believe that his betrayal has gone unnoticed._

_ He can continue to act, playing the part of the perfect apprentice, for as long as it takes. But once he rids himself of the old man—then, finally, he will act as he sees fit._

* * *

Zexion did not wait for the Heartless to come back to consciousness. Although initially frozen, Riku had barely been enveloped by the darkness before he was forcing himself to move, scrabbling awkwardly to put some distance between himself and the struggling boy. The act was almost automatic, which would explain a lot because he had no idea why he was trying to act at all. For that matter, it was the first time in what seemed like ages that he had felt any inclination to do anything at all, but he did not need to see Xehanort to know that this time was different. The darkness itself was pulsing—_angry_—and he knew exactly who that anger was directed at.

But all the desperation in the world could not substitute for the energy needed to truly act; even at full strength, he never had the ability to escape. Now, weakened by pain and long-term abuse, the idea of escape was laughable. Logic therefore dictated that he should do nothing but accept what was to come, yet logic was the farthest thing from his mind at this point. Logic had granted him no favors thus far, and he doubted Xehanort would be satisfied with his capitulation.

It did beg the question of what _would_ satisfy the Heartless, although he rarely dwelled on such things. For the most part, he simply lacked the strength to dwell on anything besides the present pain, which made it difficult to think of anything as abstract as the future or as distant as the past. Sometimes he wondered if that was exactly what Xehanort wanted, to be the only person Zexion could think about. It was exactly the kind of punishment a creature as egoistical as the Heartless would have liked, and so far a decidedly unpleasant one.

It was about to become all the more unpleasant, he knew without a doubt.

Falling off the bed took more energy than he would have liked to admit, and he quickly found that he might as well have tried jumping over the moon for all the good it did him. He could not stand, his limbs so out of use that they could not support even his insubstantial weight, and he could not drag himself either. He could only hunch there, shuddering like an animal caught in a trap, except he was trapped not by metal but by his own useless body. Riku's presence had been replaced entirely by the Heartless, who did not wait long to act.

The time for niceties had long since passed; it took barely any effort for the Heartless to grab him by the arm and yank him back onto the bed. His rather pathetic cry of pain was quickly smothered as he was thrown face down into sheets that smelled of body fluids. Choking on the acrid stench of sweat, semen, and his own blood, he struggled to rise so that he could _breathe_ only to be pushed down further by the creature.

"Again, Zexion?"

He froze at the sound of his name (his name, **his** name), and the pressure on his back increased accordingly as Xehanort leaned over him, asking, "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

He could not respond in his current state, and he dared not respond when the truth was so damning. Cold fingers caressed his cheek in a twisted parody of affection as the Heartless continued, "Why must you do such things? Did you not learn from the first time, or was death not enough of a lesson?"

With that, the Heartless grabbed his hair, pulling him up so that he could finally breathe. It was no mercy though; the back of his scalp burned to the point of eliciting tears and his lungs screamed in pain as air was gasped into them, but he had little time to consider the benefits of _not_ breathing when he was again slammed face down. It was clear that Xehanort wanted not answers but for him to simply be coherent enough to react, although what was he supposed to be reacting _to_?

"I honestly do not understand why you feel such a need to betray me. Especially to the likes of _them_. First Ansem, now that boy… a small lesson for you, Nobody—if you must betray someone, make sure that your fellow conspirator is powerful enough to protect _you_. Otherwise," _a hand, moving down his hip, idly tracing the sickening bruises that would not heal any longer_, "you end up broken for nothing."

His mind was racing; if he had a heart, that would have been racing too, but soon none of that mattered as he could not help but scream when his hip was roughly grabbed, nails digging into wounded flesh and sending pain, such _pain_ through him. The scream was as pointless as his existence, wasting air for naught when no one could hear it, the sound too short from lack of air and too muffled to make any lasting impression. It did have some effect though; already he could feel consciousness slipping away as he squandered what little strength he had left. _That_, he did not bother to fight when it would solve so many of his current problems. Of course he knew it would only be putting off the inevitable, but that didn't matter. If this was the only way he could escape the pain, he would gladly take it.

"_No._" It was as if the Heartless could read his mind; before he could just let it all go, he was roughly turned onto his back. Automatically his traitorous body gasped in air, bringing everything back into all too sharp relief as Xehanort hissed, "You will not be escaping that easily."

The Heartless's face was ugly, contorted by rage as Xehanort leaned down so that there was barely an inch separating their faces. Zexion had never seen the man lose control such, although Ienzo had once long ago. It was a sight the boy had hoped never to see again, and Zexion could understand why as the Heartless asked—no, _demanded_, "Did you really think you could get away with this again? Surely you could not be so foolish to believe that I would forgive another one of your transgressions? Perhaps you would care to enlighten me by telling me how long this has been going on?"

He did not know why Xehanort was bothering to ask; either way, he was guilty of something. It was therefore easier to say nothing, but he knew that would not be enough for the creature. No, Xehanort wanted him to admit guilt and thus, to admit that he deserved any punishment that the Heartless could and would inflict. Not that Xehanort needed any excuse to hurt him—if the Heartless had actually needed a reason, then what was everything that had happened before? It was not as if Xehanort could have known he was helping (or rather, trying to help) Riku; if he had, this would have happened long ago.

"Well, Ienzo?" The question was now sickly sweet although the Heartless's eyes were still bright with madness. How could Ienzo or any of the other apprentices ever have trusted the man? Certainly he hid the insanity well, but there had always been something off about him. Always something not _right_. "Tell me the truth, and I may be more inclined to be merciful."

As little as those words promised, he knew they were still a lie—a lie he nevertheless clung to in futile desperation. But when he opened his mouth to speak, a thin scream cut off the words he did not even know would come as Xehanort seemed to completely lost interest in whatever excuses he might have to offer. He closed his eyes even more tightly than before as he tried to concentrate on breathing so that he would not have to face what was happening _down there_. More than that, it was so that he would not give into the mind-breaking fear, although as a Nobody he should not be able to feel _fear_ in the first place. Was the memory of fear simply that strong within him? How odd and cruel that the dark emotions like anger, hatred, and fear were the ones he remembered best, while happier times fell by the wayside with each passing day. As a result, he could not even try to escape into his own mind as Xehanort said coldly, "I'm sorry; did you have something to say? I simply assumed it would be a lie."

There was no mocking lilt in the words; Xehanort had gone past that now, no longer bothering to hide behind grace and pretty lies. "Still, I cannot help but be a little surprised. After giving me up to Ansem, I would have thought you would know be-"

"What?"

The question was barely more than a whisper, but it caused Xehanort to stop mid-word, the Heartless straightening in evident surprise. For a moment they stared at each other, trying to read the other, but the moment did not last long as suddenly Xehanort lashed out, backhanding him. His vision spun, but even through the pain he could hear Xehanort snap, "Do not insult me like that, Zexion. It is unbecoming. Surely you did not think I would never find out that you were the one to tell Ansem of our experiments, just as we were finally making progress."

His breath caught, and Xehanort smirked. "Truly? You thought I did not know? Surprising. Of course, not as surprising as your pitiful existence. I would have thought for sure that my Nobody would have done away with you, to avoid having you betray him again. So imagine my surprise when you showed up at Castle Oblivion. How he could have let you survive, I do not know, but I must thank him. If not for that mistake, I would not have had the chance for this, to make you pay for what you did. And that is why you exist now. That is the _only_ reason why you exist. So that I may teach you the error of your ways, and it would seem that another lesson-"

"I didn't." His voice was shaking, but not in that parody of fear that was the most Nobodies could feel. He nearly wanted to laugh in relief. Xehanort believed that he had told Ansem of the experiments back in Radiant Garden? If that misconception was the reason why Xehanort was doing this, he could tell him… tell him that it was not true. He had no idea who had told Ansem, and had never thought much of it. Ienzo had always assumed that the king had discovered their experiments on his own, but Xehanort… if Xehanort thought that, and that was the reason why this was happening, he could _stop_ him. He could explain, he could… yes, he could explain that it was all a mistake, and perhaps then his alliance with Riku would not matter either because… he could explain that away too. It would be difficult but he would figure out a way—he always did, did he not?—but first he had to dispel Xehanort's notion that Ienzo was the one who had told the king all those years ago. "I didn't say anything to Ansem, I never-"

"Again with the lies?" Xehanort asked, eyes narrowed. "Zexion or Ienzo, you are one and the same, and one is responsible for the actions of the other no matter how much you may deny it."

He shook his head frantically, not caring how it made the pain in his head intensify to the point that he nearly could not think. The pain did not matter, not when he could prevent that which was coming. He could push through it, now that he understood what was happening and could see a way through this. "Ienzo… Ienzo never told him either. Ansem-"

"Hm? Even now, you continue to deny it?" Xehanort was coming close again, too close, and Zexion had to stop him somehow. It hurt to speak and his voice was shaking but he had to make the Heartless _listen_.

"No, not denying it. It never… never happened. Ienzo did not… he would not have told the king. There was no reason to, no reason when the experiments were going so well and-"

He nearly sighed in relief as the weight upon him suddenly disappeared. Xehanort got off of him, face impassive as the Heartless looked over him with the analytical eye of a practiced scientist. Ienzo had earned that look many a time back in Radiant Garden, although never in such a circumstance. Zexion swallowed, trying to recapture the calm that he thought he had long ago lost, and continued, "Please… you must believe me. Ienzo did not betray you." He made no mention of himself, of course. Now was not the time to bring that up, although it inevitably would be. But when it was, he would deal with it.

Still, Xehanort said nothing. He did not dare move, barely dared to breathe, and finally Xehanort said, "You sound so sincere."

Finally. _Finally_ it was over, and they could move on. Certainly this could not erase what had happened before, but what did that matter? Pain was temporary, and what was… _rape _beyond the pain when he could not feel any of the related emotional trauma? Granted, it had not always felt that way, but that did not matter anymore. As long as it did not happen again, he could get past it. It would not affect him. He could… no, he still had to explain what had happened with Riku but now the Heartless would be more forgiving, especially after what had happened. It would be easy, especially if he did not need the boy anymore, and if he did then he would not have this anymore. It would be over. Yes, it would be over and perhaps the Heartless would even release him, and he would be able to leave this place and—"What are you doing?!"

The Heartless still showed nothing as his legs were wrenched apart, and Xehanort settled between them as if this was something completely normal. As if hands there and "I do not believe you."

No. No, no, no, _no_, this could not be happening, this could _not_. Not when he was so close, not now! "I told you! It wasn't him, it wasn't-"

He was cut off by a hand over his mouth. "I do not believe you," Xehanort repeated flatly. "My Nobody may have been foolish enough to believe your stories, but I am not. I believed in you once, but no longer. Your lies will deceive me no longer. I have spent too much of my life being lied to; did you think I would not be able to recognize yours when they are so painfully apparent? Did you really think that a few pretty words would explain away your actions? **Pathetic**."

He tried desperately to speak, but Xehanort was not budging. But even as he struggled, he knew it was in vain because of the sinking, horrific realization that nothing he said would convince the Heartless of the truth. Xehanort would not listen to reason, would not listen to _him_, but who else could explain? If not him, how else would Xehanort realize that this was a _mistake_, that Ienzo had never said anything to Ansem? That this should not be happening, that there was no need for 'lessons' or punishment or _this_, and instead _this_ would continue because Xehanort believed something that was not true and nothing he could do would dissuade the Heartless.

And if that was the case, he knew without a doubt that this would be the rest of his existence. If he could not convince Xehanort of the truth, Xehanort would—the thought was too horrifying to consider, but he could not deny it. Not when his legs were splayed so to give the Heartless easier access, and as always he had no strength to prevent it from happening. Xehanort pressed against him, the excruciating intrusion imminent, and all he had to prevent it from happening again (and again, and _again_) was silly words that everyone had long ago stopped listening to.

He could not let it happen. He could not bear to go through this again. He could not, and he should not _have_ to. And yet it was nothing new, nothing more than what had already been done but somehow the thought of it was enough to send him into hysterics. And as one hand began to explore his body, following familiar paths marked by unhealed cuts and bruises, pressing in to overload his senses, he started to sob.

It started quietly at first, but as Xehanort laughed and fingers slipped down to—not there, not _there_, not **again**—it quickly reached the point of wracking through his body. Still he did not know why this was different; even after everything the Heartless had put him through, he had never broken down like this before. He could still hold onto some semblance of dignity rather than giving into such humiliation, but at this point, he simply _could not help it_. The pain, it was more than the pain, for the thought that he could do nothing to stop this after that one wild, desperate moment of believing this would end. Oh it was foolish, and he never should have given in to such delusional hope, but how could he not have? He needed this to end because he could not take it anymore, and the realization that he would have to continue on like this….

He could barely think now, the intrusion already too much although it was nothing compared to what was coming. And still Xehanort was laughing, enjoying his breakdown as he stopped trying to fight and just cried, unable to do much else. He couldn't take this, he shouldn't _have_ to take this but he couldn't stop it. Everything depended on the Heartless's whims, and this was what Xehanort wanted. Lying here, breaking down piece by piece until what was left was a pathetic, broken creature that could only gag and shudder, his trembling more like the convulsions of a dying man.

"Magnificent." The sheer delight in Xehanort's voice made him want to vomit, and hopefully to die choking on it, but even that small relief was denied him. He would gladly die now if it meant he would escape this, but he knew Xehanort would not let him. "But my pleasure is not the only aim in this, of course. You and I once had a wonderful teaching relationship, did we not? A part of me yearns for those days again, so this is not without its own lessons. Are you listening to me?"

His scream was cut short by the darkness wrapping around his mouth, gagging him effectively. There was no effort to bind his body though as his legs were pushed up and the fingers replaced with something much worse, but his wails were muffled so he could not help but hear Xehanort continue in a familiar academic tone, as if they were in a classroom rather than in a bed, as if the Heartless was not _inside of him_, "Now you must pay attention, or how else will you learn? A little reciprocity is, I believe, in order. We shall start with a simple premise. You know, I assume, why people usually do not betray their comrades."

A sharp movement accompanied the words, and it was becoming impossible to see clearly through the tears. But his impaired sight only seemed to heighten his sense of hearing as Xehanort said cruelly, "It is the guilt, Nobody. The guilt of betraying trust, but Ienzo lacked such trust, did he not? And now you, his Nobody, cannot feel any sort of emotion. So I thought to myself, how else can I teach him? How else can I show him the error of his ways? And it occurred to me-"

He was pushed back, the force of the Heartless's movements enough so that his head slammed into the wall. But still Xehanort's words were all too clear because he could not even scream to drown it out, and his futile attempts to do so only made the Heartless laugh and shake his head, "And it occurred to me that even a Nobody such as yourself can feel physical pain. I assume as a scientist, or the shell of one at least, you understand what I am getting at? Oh, it is crude, I must admit, but really you have left me no choice. If I cannot appeal to your common sense, then I will treat you like the animal you are and rely on conditioning. Associating pain with betrayal—to be honest, I thought I was already doing enough, but apparently you need a harsher hand if you still had the impudence to conspire with that boy. Was my attentions not enough for you, or is your threshold of tolerance higher than even I could have expected?"

Xehanort paused, gold eyes darkening suddenly as all laughter drained out. What was left was the madness, dedicated solely to destroying him as the Heartless said in barely more than a whisper, "There will be no more of that. You will never betray me again, Nobody. Do you understand me? For rest assured that you will have my _undivided_ attention from this point on, until we have ensured that you have learned your lessons well."

* * *

End Notes:

The scene that took me the longest time to do was the second scene. Not the last, surprisingly enough, because while writing Zexion in _that_ way was… awkward, writing Riku was far more difficult. Riku's been through a lot, between the near destruction of a couple of worlds, but for me at least, this was different. It was a lot more personal. Not only because what was happening to Zexion was already to intimately personal, but… the very idea of seeing something like that and realizing that you could have stopped it and worse than that, that you might have _caused_ it in part… I cannot imagine it. This made it difficult to write because part of my writing is putting myself in the mindset of the characters, and I just could not imagine what could possibly go through Riku's head in that situation. I did my best, but I freely admit that in this case, my best was not enough.

Anyhow, I just wanted to thank everyone for reading this. The reviews are nice too, although horribly guilt-inducing because I feel rather badly for taking so long with this chapter. Nevertheless they are much appreciated, especially since I know I'm terrible about consistent updates. I wish I could promise more timely updates in this new year, but I simply cannot. In fact, I was rushing to get this chapter done so that I would avoid the upcoming crush of schoolwork. I will do my best to get something done within the coming months, but the most I can do now is thank you in advance for your patience.

Upcoming Chapter Preview:

_ "I will have to take care of him, of course." Xehanort was not speaking to him, not really. "That boy is more trouble than he is worth. It is earlier than I would have liked, but then…."_

_ The Heartless turned to look at him, a complacent, cruel smile on its face. "Perhaps you can still be of some use to me after all, Nobody."_


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